


A Marriage of Untrue Minds

by Tinuviel_Undomiel



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 19:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinuviel_Undomiel/pseuds/Tinuviel_Undomiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: What if Cora had run off with Rumplestiltskin? </p><p>Belle becomes a maid for Rumplestiltskin and his wife, Cora. As she works for them, she discovers the many cracks in their marriage and the man buried inside of the Dark One. Meanwhile, Cora notices her husband's growing affections for Belle and devises a plan to destroy his love for her. There are many secrets Cora hides from Rumplestiltskin, dark secrets that could threaten to destroy him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Deal is Struck

**Author's Note:**

> A dark plot bunny that attacked me after The Miller's Daughter. I fought it off for as a long as I could, but finally succumbed. Also my first foray into smut so I hope that pleases everyone. Warning: the first bit of smut is NOT Rumbelle.
> 
> I wouldn't really call this a Golden Heart or whatever the Rumple/Cora ship is called as it is more of a study of how I think there relationship would have evolved and crumbled if she had chosen him in the end. In my opinion, their relationship was always doomed as Cora would always want power over love. So basically, this is Rumbelle story while Rumple is married to Cora
> 
> Also, I changed some of Rumple's backstory. Basically in this universe: there is no need for a Dark Curse so Regina never existed as Cora never married Prince Henry. Other changes are made as well, but I won't give them away. You'll have to read to find out. I hope you like it.

Yesterday was supposed to be her wedding day. Belle had forgotten amidst fortifying the walls, tending the wounded and gathering everyone inside the castle. The wedding had been postponed months ago when the ogres’ siege had begun, but that still didn’t change the fact that today she was supposed to be a married woman. She tried to feel something for that, yet she couldn’t muster anything beyond fear. The ogres were coming. It didn’t seem like she would ever be married now.

She stood beside her father at the table as they stared at the map. Their town still stood, but she knew Avonlea was under attack and four towns have already fallen to the ogres. Soon they would be here, unless a miracle came.

“Sir,” one of her father’s knights appeared with a note, “News from the battlefield: Avonlea has fallen.”

Belle’s heart sank. She looked over at her betrothed, Sir Gaston but he looked just as lost as she. Her own father paled at the news. “My gods,” he gasped. They were doomed now.

“If only they had come,” Gaston said. It seemed everyone had accepted the fact that they would soon die.

“Well they didn’t, did they?” Maurice snapped. He walked towards his chair where he would receive the problems of the villagers and judge matters of court in their little town. Now it held him up when he was ready to collapse. “Ogres are not men.”

No they weren’t. They couldn’t be reasoned with.

“We have to do something,” Gaston said. Belle shook her head at him. They had no army, little weapons and no allies. They had done all they possibly could, it was up to the gods and magicians to help them now. “We have to stop them.”

“They are unstoppable,” Maurice said with finality.

Belle knelt next to her father, taking his larger hand into her two smaller ones. “They could be on their way right now, papa,” Belle said. She still had some small hope that she would see the sunrise tomorrow.

“It’s too late, my girl,” he said, “It’s just too late.”

A loud, slow banging on the door startled everyone in the room. Belle leapt to her feet and started tugging on her father’s arm. “It’s them! It has to be them!”

“How could they get past the walls?” he asked. It was the tip of Belle’s tongue to remind him of their magic, but now wasn’t the time. Hope was being kindled again. “Open it!” he ordered his men.

The guards pulled off the beams barricading the door and pushed it open. Empty. There was no one there. Had they all just imagined the knocking in their fitful hope for a tomorrow?

“Well that was a bit of a letdown.”

Belle and her companions all whirled around to see who had spoken. A man, or something, was sitting in her father’s chair. He had such strange skin, not quite brown, green, grey or gold but a mixture of all four with an odd sparkle to it. His hair was a wavy and unkempt mousy brown. His eyes were scarlet and yellow, reptilian almost. He had a wicked smile on his face with terribly stained teeth. He toyed with a model of their town, stolen from the map on the table, with his hands.

Then Belle noticed the woman standing beside the chair. She looked perhaps a few years older than Belle with dark, almost black hair and matching dark eyes. She was stunningly beautiful in her dark red gown and alabaster skin. A cold smile curved her lips as she stared straight at Belle. Belle couldn’t breath as she looked at her. This woman seemed to be sucking the very breathe and life out of her.

It was them. The famous Dark One and his Dark Lady. Rumplestiltskin and Cora.

“You sent us a message,” Cora said in a voice as smooth as honey.

“Yes, something about, um, ‘Help, help! We’re dying! Can you save us?’,” Rumplestiltskin said with cheer. He stood up from his chair at the same time Gaston pulled out his sword and pointed it towards his midsection. “Well the answer is, yes.” He slapped the sword down to punctuate his words, “Yes, we can save your little town.”

“For a price,” Cora said. She walked over to stand by her husband’s side.

“We sent you a promise of gold,” Maurice reminded them. That had been Belle’s idea, setting the price beforehand in hopes of removing the possibility of a price they couldn’t afford later. It had all been her idea to call upon them for aid. It was they only option.

“Ah, you see, I uh, make gold,” he stressed. Belle blinked at that knowledge. Yes, she’d heard that rumor, but it was true? He actually spun gold out of straw? “You see, what you are asking of us requires something a bit more…precious.”

“What do you require?” Maurice asked, “Land? Jewels?”

“Blood,” Cora said, “The price for your people’s safety is the spilling of noble blood.” She smiled as she met Maurice’s gaze. “A noble death in exchange for your people’s lives.”  
Belle gasped, her heart plummeted to her slippers. “No!” she shouted and broke free of Gaston’s hold to take her father’s arm. “No, you can’t do this!”

“Belle, it’s all right,” Maurice told her, “I’ve lived a good life. You are too be married soon and you and Gaston will rule our people after I’m gone. That was always the plan, it just starts sooner than we expected.”

“Papa, I can’t let you do this. I can’t let you die.”

“It would be a good death,” Maurice said.

“Oh yes, very good,” Rumplestiltskin said, “Quick and very little pain. Though the squeamish will have to look away.” That horrible giggle he sounded made Belle hate him in that moment.

She whirled around to face the Dark One and his woman, glaring at them with all of the pain and ferocity she could muster. “He is my father! Not some sacrificial lamb you can replace. He is a good man, a leader amongst my people. He is all I have left in the world.”

Cora gave her a cool smile. “The price is noble blood, girl. It need not be your father’s.”

Belle put one hand over her chest where her heart still beat. It pumped her blood  
throughout her body, her noble blood. “Yes,” she whispered, “Take me instead.”

“Belle no!” Maurice shouted. Rumplestiltskin frowned at her, his eyes searching her like she had only just appeared before him.

“You can’t be serious,” Gaston hissed at her, “Your father is the far better choice.”

“You have no right to say that!” Belle shouted at him, “He is my father and this is my choice! If blood is to be the price then I shall pay it.”

She looked back at Cora. “Take me instead.”

Cora smiled at her and for the first time Belle recognized something in her gaze: glee. She wanted to take her life. Belle refused to let that frighten her, but she still felt her heart beat a little faster.

“Wait,” Rumplestiltskin surprised them all by speaking, “You would willingly die to save one man’s life?”

“He’s my father,” Belle said, “He was willing to die for everyone else, why shouldn’t I die for him?”

“You’ll pay the price?”

“I will.”

He rubbed his forefinger and thumb together and let out a “hmm” sound. “Your life will be forfeit to save your town.”

Belle let out a breathe and nodded. It would be quick. He said there would be pain and she could handle that, but she did want it to be quick, for her father’s sake.

“But it doesn’t have to be your death.”

Belle peered up at him. “What?”

“I’ll make you a deal, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin said, “You come and stay with us for the rest of your life and I’ll save your town.”

Live with them? Live instead of die?

“The young lady is engaged, to me,” Gaston reminded him.

Rumplestiltskin let out a hideous laugh. “I wasn’t asking if she was engaged. I happen to be married, I’m not looking for a spare. I’m looking for a caretaker for my rather large estate.”  
“Funny, I wasn’t aware we were looking for one,” Cora spoke up then.

“Well, darling, it was a spur of the moment decision,” he replied without looking at his wife. Instead he looked at Belle, “Do we have a deal?”

She opened her mouth, but as so frequently happened, the men in her life spoke for her. “Get out,” her father said, “I’ll take your original deal. I’ll die for my people, but you will not take my daughter away from me.”

“It’s her or no deal,” Rumplestiltskin said.

“Then leave!”

His eyes never left Belle’s as he said, “As you wish.” Belle saw Cora’s eyes flicker to hers, taking her in before she followed her husband to the door. They were leaving. Her father was giving up their entire village for her, so he would lose her. That wasn’t fair. Hundreds have already died, more will die if he let this happen. If she let this happen.

“No, wait!” They stopped. She pulled herself out of Gaston’s grip and walked towards them. “I will go with them.”

Rumplestiltskin let out a gleeful sound, but her father shouted out, “No!” 

“I forbid it!” Gaston boomed.

Belle shook her head at him. He wasn’t her husband, yet he still thought he ruled her life. “No one decides my fate but me. I shall go.”

“It’s forever, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin reminded her.

Forever didn’t scare her. Him breaking his word, that was another matter. “My family, my friends,” Belle said carefully, “They will all live?”

“You have my word,” he said with a slight bow.

“Then you have mine,” Belle said, “I shall go with you forever.”

“Are you sure you want to do this, girl?” Cora asked her from the doorway, “I can kill you instead.” That earned a glare from her husband, which Belle only had a moment to notice.

“No,” Maurice broke forward and took his daughter’s arm, “Belle, please, you cannot do this. You can’t go with this…beast.”

Rumplestiltskin pressed one hand to his heart, his face a mockery of offense. “Let me die,” Maurice begged her, “Let them kill me, just don’t go.”

“Father,” she said softly and then looked to her betrothed, “Gaston, it’s been decided.”

She wanted to hug her father goodbye, to kiss his cheek and promise him that this was for the best. But Rumplestiltskin stuck himself into the moment, wrapping one arm around her waist. “You know, she’s right. The deal is struck.”

That word finalized everything. The deal was struck. She now belonged to the Dark One and his Dark wife.

“Oh, congratulations on your little war,” he crowed. He pulled Belle towards him, forcing her to turn around without saying goodbye.

Her heart was pounding inside of her chest as she stared at her new master. What had she done? What would happen now? She had made sure her family and her people would be safe, but she hadn’t bargained for herself. He could hurt her if he wished.

“You find this amusing,” Cora’s icy words broke through the haze of Belle’s fear. It took her a moment to realize she was speaking to her husband.

“Yes, and she’s a far worthier prize than that old fart’s heart,” he said.

“I’m not a prize,” Belle said.

Rumplestiltskin let out a laugh. “What did you think you were, dearie? Isn’t that what you were born for? To be that toy knight’s little prize? Well, now you’re mine.”

He flicked his wrist and suddenly they were no longer walking the halls of her father’s castle. All she saw was a blur of black, green and purple. It moved like fog but seemed to have more substance than that. It was crushing her, choking her, filling her until she was certain she would burst. Then she felt her feet touch solid ground, stone actually.

Belle’s knees gave away, but she managed to hold out her hands to break her fall on the cold, polished stone. She sucked in air but choked on it. Her eyes burned with tears as she coughed until her lungs found the ability to work again. Her head was spinning so she shut her eyes and pressed her forehead to the cool floor. It would pass. At least, she hoped it would.

“Excellent choice, husband,” Cora said as she stepped around Belle, narrowly missing her hand, “She’s quite fit for duty as our new rug.”

Rumplestiltskin let out a snarl and then grabbed Belle’s shoulders to haul her to her feet. “You showed some strength back there, where has it gone?”

“I’m—I’m sorry,” she said, “I just—I didn’t expect…”

“You ask for magic and yet you are surprised when it is used?”

“You could have warned me.”

“That wasn’t part of our deal.”

He shoved her forward, making Belle stumble but she managed to regain her balance before her fall. The doors before them opened on their own and Cora stormed inside, throwing herself into one wingback chair by a fireplace. It was a nice room with beautiful tapestries on the wall that Belle thought might tell a story. She saw similar room once when she was a girl visiting King George’s castle with her parents, but she didn’t have much time to compare the tapestries. Rumplestiltskin was apparently in a hurry.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“Let’s call it, your room,”

That didn’t sound so bad. She wasn’t expecting much, certainly nothing like her room at home. No, best not to think about home. She had been gone only a few moments, she couldn’t start feeling homesick just yet. It would break her. 

So she decided to accept whatever he gave her. She had seen the servants quarters at her father’s castle. They had been small, but comfortable enough. He’d always made sure everyone was cared for in his castle. She would have a bed, window and maybe even a fireplace. She would make do with all of that.

 

She didn’t think about why he was leading her down into the bowels of the castle, how cold it was and how endless the corridors seemed. Then he brought her to a series of giant wooden doors. One flick of his wrist, and one door creaked open.

“Your room, dearie,” he said.

It was one small space with an straw pallet and bars covering the windows. No blanket was set on the pallet and there was no fireplace to be seen. It wasn’t a room, it was a dungeon.  
“My room?” she repeated incredulously. He couldn’t be serious.

“Well it sounds lot nicer than dungeon,” he said cheerfully, then he shoved her inside.  
“Wait!” she shouted, but the door closed. A latch fell then there was click. Rumplestiltskin let out his hideous giggle, even as she banged on the door. “You can’t just leave me in here!” she shouted, “Hello! Hello!”

She banged and banged, but his footsteps still led him away from the door. She tried the handle but it wouldn’t budge. Belle turned around, taking in every detail of her tiny cell. She could now feel the icy chill in the air, the stillness all around her. She was truly alone here.

What had she gotten herself into?

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rumplestiltskin hadn’t felt this good in years. Not since tragedy had stricken the Dark Castle and everything had changed. Acquiring the girl was not his plan, but the more he thought about it, he was glad he had overruled Cora’s price. He needed a new face to bother, someone he could play with for a while. He had been so bored of late. This knight’s daughter would be perfect.

He giggled to himself as he thought of the chores he had in mind for her. He’d seen her hands, soft and oh so small and delicate. The heaviest thing she’d probably every held was a needle and sampler. Well, that would change. She would learn the life of the worker. If she complained, well then he’d teach her that she was now beneath him. This was so much better than simply forcing the nobles to die for their people, especially since most refused. Instead of learning to die, the girl would learn to be one of the lower class. She who had been on top would fall. Just like he who had been nothing had raised himself this high.

His steps were lighter, his heart skipping inside of his breast. He rubbed his hands to together as he imagined the girl scrubbing away in the kitchens, bent over a washboard, sweeping the endless halls of his castle. Now this was teaching the nobles a lesson.

He was so wrapped up in his plans that he failed to notice the priceless vase flying towards him. It was the Dark One’s power that helped him detect the foreign object with the prickle in his spine that warned him of possible harm. He managed to step aside at a speed not possible by ordinary men. The vase went sailing past his shoulder, shattering on the wall into silver and black shards.

“That was five hundred years old,” he said coolly towards the now worthless pottery.

“What’s the loss of one trophy?” Cora hissed back, one dark brow raised in a challenge. She was right. He couldn’t even remember who that vase had initially belonged too. It hardly mattered, only the magical objects were truly of value to him.

“You’re piqued over the girl.”

“Really? What gave you that idea, Rumple?” This time it was a silver plate engraved with ancient Imperial writing that was flung at him. He ducked, allowing the plate to slam against the wall. It was badly dented, not that he cared. He’d only acquired it because the late Emperor had loved it so much. He found gold far more appealing.

“If you are that desperate for more blood, I’m sure another noble will send a message soon,” he said. She had said she wanted to rip our their throats and break their kneecaps. After twenty years, she still hadn’t tired of it.

But Rumplestiltskin had. 

Revenge had appealed to him a very long time ago and it was that promise that had first brought Cora to him, but everyone who he had truly hated was long dead. He had gained fear from the nobles and knowledge that he was never to be trifled with, thus he was to be respected. Oh he knew they scorned him when he was away, but none of them dared to challenge him. The truth of the matter was he simply didn’t care anymore.

He didn’t care that King George was penniless or that the kingdom of Midas was plagued by beasts. These men meant nothing to them other than the prizes they could offer him for his magic. Truth be told, he found a man’s death was worthless. Revenge had a sweetness to it that burned out quickly. 

Perhaps it was because he’d lived so long. He’d long ago gotten his vengeance, enjoyed its nectar and now was bereft of what to do. The memories were still bitter, no matter how many times he recalled the life sapping out of Hordor’s eyes. There was truly nothing to profit from it now.

But Cora had yet to see this. She still wanted to rip out throats, to see fresh blood on her hands and stand over the bodies of those who had trampled her in the dust. He had offered her this before and she had bargained her hand and children into the deal. Now she had her magic and he had nothing to show for it but an empty bed and a cold grave.

Cora was clearly the winner of their deal.

“Maurice had nothing of value to us but his blood,” Cora hissed.

“He had his daughter.”

“That wench is of no importance to me,” she said, “We don’t need her here. We never needed a servant before, why now?”

“Fun,” he answered truthfully. She was right that magic had always been their servant before. They never needed a laundress, cook or maid. Their magic had done everything they had ever desired, letting them devote themselves to spells and plots. But of late, Rumplestiltskin had found himself less in the laboratory and more at his spinning wheel. Magic still interested him, but he was running out of purposes to use it. Having someone new in the castle to toy with would hopefully let him find himself again.

Cora rocked back on her heels. A cold smile crossed her face. When was the last time she’d smiled warmly at him? “I see. The little beauty has your prick at full attention. Well bed her if you wish, then cast her out.”

He snorted at the thought. Oh the girl was beautiful, exquisite actually. But he had never been ruled by his cock before, certainly not now. “She intrigues me,” he admitted, “but if I wanted a mistress, I wouldn’t pick the virgin daughter of a lesser knight.”

“The thought of her unplucked fruit doesn’t arouse you in the slightest?” she asked dryly, “I find that hard to believe.”

She had him there. Only a dead man wouldn’t find the Lady Belle a tempting piece and Rumplestiltskin was immortal, death didn’t beckon to the likes of him. If he had been unmarried and the girl willing to let the Dark One in her bed, he’d cheerfully deflower her. As the situation stood, he had a wife and the girl loathed him. Rape had never tempted him in the slightest.

“Adultery is your hobby, dearie, not mine.”

Cora’s brown eyes flashed, her dark brows raised slightly. He hit a point he rarely chose to bring up. He knew that what had passed across her face wasn’t guilt. If she truly felt remorse for her affairs, then she would have been more discreet about that. No, she was just surprised that he’d brought the subject up. 

“Is that what this is all about?” she questioned as she stepped closer to him, “Are you jealous, husband? Do you want to even the field between us?”

“One girl could hardly do that.”

Cora narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t play games, Rumple. If you want a woman, have one, but don’t bring your little whores home.”

He let out a vibrant laugh. “We already established that the girl is no whore. Perhaps you’re the one who’s jealous, dearie. You bartered your virtue away many years ago.”

“I had no choice,” she hissed.

“Perhaps not,” he conceded that point, “but just because you give it away for free now, doesn’t change what you are.”

It was the first time he’d ever blatantly insulted his wife. Years ago, he’d never thought he would. Years ago they’d had a very different marriage. Now, he tried to muster up some guilt for his words but couldn’t find anything. Perhaps he shouldn’t have brought up her rather painful past, that had been a low blow, but she had been the one to try out other beds. She should hardly take offense to the bitter truth.

Apparently she did.

Cora abandoned magic and chose to make her assault personal. She struck Rumplestiltskin across the face. The blow left only a slight sting to his cheek, one hardly noticeable considering the magic that protected him. He only grinned at her as if to say, ‘is that the best you can do?’

So she upped her game. She reached out with her hand to take a hold of one of the wingback chairs and hurled it at him. He used his own magic to send the chair back, away from doing him any temporary harm. But Cora had always been clever, one of the things he’d loved about her from the start. 

While he had been protecting himself from the chair, she used her power to send The cabinet and all of it’s costly possessions down on him. He let out a grunt of surprise as the massive weight of wood, glass and treasure piled down on his body. Had he been a man, he would have been crushed. The power of curse healed any broken bones and fractures instantly and his internal injuries were repaired. The rage at being bested, well that was only stoked.

He relied on his impressive strength to lift the cabinet off of him and purposefully throw it towards his disobedient wife. Cora didn’t have the time to gather up her own power to use against the cabinet, so her only choice was dodge the attack. She threw herself away to the side on top of the broken glass and splintered wood. The glass cut into her palms and ripped her dress, nothing serious in the least and all easily healed.

She pulled herself back to her feet, but her husband wasn’t through with her yet. One of his large spinner hands locked around her throat and dragged her away from the mess until he had her pinned to the wall. It wasn’t a grip meant to choke the life out of her, only to restrain her from pursuing further injury to his person.

The blacks of his eyes were swallowing away the wicked color there. Cora gripped at the hand that held her, but not too hard. She bit back her own smile as he leaned in close to her. “That wasn’t very nice,” he hissed.

“If you want nice, go to your girl in the dungeons,” Cora said. She reached up with her right hand to drag one long, blood red nail down from his temple to his jaw. “You know exactly what I am.”

Her hand moved from his jaw to the collar of his shirt. She took one handful of silk to pull him towards in a bruising kiss. Her teeth bit at his lips, threatening to draw blood. Rumplestiltskin took her hand away and pinned it to the wall by her head. Cora fought at him when he went for the other, but he bested her there too. Now imprisoned, she had no choice but to accept his own punishing kiss.

They dueled with their mouths, teeth and tongues until he finally let go of her wrists to grip the bodice of her gown and rip it in two. She shoved his dragonhide coat off his shoulders and kicked it aside. Then she attacked his shirt and waistcoat, tearing both apart with her own fingers, not caring if she ripped into his flesh as well.

Rumplestiltskin sneered at her. He took one handful of her dark hair, pulling at it until she had to tilt her head back towards the ceiling. He placed a hard bite there at her throat before he tugged harder. Cora fell backwards onto the floor, landing in a mass of her skirts. Her husband pounced on her.

They battled each other with a kiss. He clawed at the skirt of her already ruined dress, ripping it into red ribbons. She wore a chemise and petticoats underneath but no drawers, only stockings held up by red garters. Cora slapped him across the face again, earning another growl from her husband. He flipped her petticoats up to her hips and thrust two fingers inside her without any teasing before. She needed none. She was already dripping onto his palm.

Cora raked her nails across his back as she moaned. Blood leaked from the wounds, but the pain was minimal and only added steam to the affair. He gave the bud just above her opening a hard pinch with his nails as he bit down one of her breasts as punishment. More of her juices poured out of her and she screamed so loud he wondered if the girl could hear them from the dungeons.

Rumplestiltskin sat up to untangle the laces of his breeches, freeing his cock. He was more than ready to take his wife and pound her into the floor. But Cora surprised him by kicking at his stomach, forcing him sprawling backwards. She smiled as she straddled him, pinning him now when he tried to fight and claim his place above her.

She freed one hand so she could position his hard shaft at her opening and then she sank down on him. They both let out long moans as her walls clenched around him. His fingers dug into her hips, biting the soft flesh there. Cora used her knees to raise herself up and then sink back down on him again. She kept a rhythm of deep, powerful thrusts, bucking her hips hard against his.

Rumplestiltskin tugged at her chemise or her hair as she rode him. At one point, he grabbed her hips and attempted to roll them over, but she shoved him back down again, biting around his nipple in retaliation. The pain made him come, releasing himself inside of her. She bore down on his spasming cock, the sensation bringing forth her own release. Her nails dug thick, red lines across his chest as the waves of her orgasm hit her.

She remained astride him as they both panted from their exertions. Their clothes were in ruins and the entire room was a mess of broken glass, wood and fallen artifacts. She smiled at him from her perch. “That was invigorating.”

“Quite,” he agreed.

“We made quite a mess,” she mused, nodding to the fallen cabinet.

“Good thing we have a new maid.”

She glared at him, but that only served to earn his laughter. She slapped him again, but he wasn’t in the mood for another round. He continued to smile at her. “You can’t win this, Cora.”

Cora let out a huff and stood up. He followed her off of the floor, the sting of her scratches already fading. “Fine,” she said, “You can keep your little pet. She probably won’t last the month anyways.”

“Don’t be so certain,” he said. He waved one hand over his person, the purple smoke swirling around him from his power. When it faded, he was fully dressed again. “I think she’s made of much stronger stuff than the other nobles.”

Cora smirked at him, her swollen lips still red because of their frenzied fucking. “We’ll see about that.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Belle thought she was to be locked up for the night. It had been evening when Rumplestiltskin and his wife took her away from her home and brought her to this place. She heard nothing for several hours but the dripping of water coming in from one corner of her cell and the wind howling through the bars of her window. She didn’t even bother trying to sleep. She doubted she would ever be able to sleep again.

She was startled when the door to her cell opened. It was still dark outside. Had he changed his mind? Was this done only to frighten her? Well it had certainly worked.

Rumplestiltskin walked in wearing different clothes than he did before. She wondered over the change, but didn’t have time to deduce the reason. “Up, up, dearie,” he said cheerfully, “Time to begin your duties.”

“At this hour?”

He smiled at her words and she longed to pull them back and keep them in her throat. “You belong to me now. You will serve me at any hour I choose.”

He showed no dark threat on his face, but she could easily hear it in his tone. Belle had to remember that this wasn’t some spoiled duke or prince, this was the infamous Dark One. Disobedience or complaints would surely be punished. She shuddered to imagine the ways he could force her to accept her new fate.

“Y-yes of course,” she stammered out.

The castle was chilly and Belle had no wrap to protect her bare shoulders from the drafts. If he noticed how she hugged her arms to her chest, he never spoke of it. He probably didn’t care if she froze to death in that dungeon. Perhaps he even desired it.

He was uncharacteristically silent as the walked. She had thought him rather chatty back at her castle, but maybe he was different here. Some of the doors they passed were open and she could see mountains of priceless possessions and artifacts haplessly laid and covered in a thick layer of dust. Her people could have been fed and clothed for months from the contents of just half of one of those rooms, and yet he treated these wealthy objects like scrap. However, that one receiving room she’d been in before had been tastefully arranged and the objects treated with care. Perhaps the wild laugh, the manic behavior and gestures were all part of a mask. Did he slip into the role of the Dark One when making his deals, much like how her father had taken the part of leader when on his throne? Perhaps, just like Sir Maurice, when left to his private rooms, the role fell away and Rumplestiltskin became simply Rumplestiltskin, whoever that was.

It was silly to think that, she decided. She barely knew him. Even if he did have another side besides this feral creature, she doubted she would ever see it.

Belle kept her shoulders straight and her eyes forward on his back. She had to hold up her skirts when they were on the stairs. Would he provide her with more suitable clothes? She didn’t dare ask.

Rumplestiltskin stopped before one door and opened it with the wave of his hand. There was the sharp spurt of surprise, quickly followed with a rush of relief when she saw it was only the kitchens. She’d been a frequent visitor at the one in her home, though it was much smaller than this castle’s. Her governess had despaired when she found her pounding dough onto the table with the other cooks, but her father had only smiled. He was never one for idle hands and so he’d given her leave to pursue her interests as long as they gave her no harm. When she’d been betrothed, her father had suggested she stop mingling in the kitchens and prepare herself for marriage. Belle had missed the warmth of that place, the smells and the sounds that came from cooking.

“You are to serve us tea,” Rumplestiltskin instructed, pointing to a tea service on the table that was waiting for use. “Surely, that simple task won’t trouble you.”

He was mocking her. He had assumed she would know nothing of this place or its tools, but he didn’t know that Belle often took tea in her room on nights when sleep eluded her. Instead of disturbing the cooks from their rest, she would make it herself. This arduous task he thought he’d laid out for her was as familiar as her own name.

“Certaintly,” she said, giving him a bright smile, “Should I prepare some pastries to go with it?” Perhaps they wouldn’t be fancy, but she did know how to make a decent sweet roll.

“Oh no, dearie, I’d hate to have you burn this place down yet,” he said with a grin. He hadn’t believed her. Well, perhaps she’d show him the truth later, but for now the tea was all he desired.

She wondered if he would stay to watch her brew the leaves, but he did leave her to her task. There was a kettle next to the crackling fire place. She used a pump to fill it with water and hung it over the fire. She busied herself finding the leaves, sugar and milk as well as making sure the china set was clean. The kettle whistled when the water was boiled. She let the tea seep for a few minutes before she picked up the heavy tray and carried it to the receiving room.

Rumplestiltskin was sitting in one of the chairs at the head of the very long table. A turn of her head showed her Cora, now clad in a dark blue dressing gown, seated before the fire place. The woman gave Belle a long, sweep of her eyes before she turned back to the fire. Rumplestiltskin was rather off-putting most of the time, but Belle found herself frightened by his wife. There was something just so…cold about her. She much preferred the mad sorcerer than his icy lady.

“You will serve our meals,” Rumplestiltskin began her list of chores, “And you shall clean the Dark Castle.”

“I—I understand,” Belle said, her voice shaking from Cora’s stare.

“You will dust my collections and launder our clothing.” He waved his hand in an odd gesture. Rumplestiltskin was the kind of person who spoke with hands, though he seemed to enjoy words just as much.

Belle set the tray down on the table. “Yes.”

“You will fetch me fresh straw when I am spinning at the wheel.”

She looked over at the lonely spinning wheel in the corner. How often did he spin straw into gold? To be honest, she actually looked forward to seeing him perform that amazing feat. “Got it.”

“Oh!” he cried, pointing one finger up as if this new chore had nearly escaped him, “You will skin the children I hunt for their pelts.”

The fresh, hot cup of tea she’d just poured slipped free from her hands. She gasped at his words, not even feeling the splash of the liquid has it sank into her skirts. There was a sort of clank that sounded, but she couldn’t think of where that could have come from. Skin children? By the gods, no! She would scrub every floor in this castle, dust every artifact, even thatch the roof if he so wished it, but she could never do such a monstrous task.

“Really, Rumple,” Cora spoke up from her chair with a chuckle, “What a beast you are.”  
She found his grotesque sport amusing? What sort of beings were these people? Had magic made them so terrible?

“That one was a quip,” Rumplestiltskin said with a smile, waving one finger, “Not serious.”

A rush of air gusted out of Belle’s lungs. It was a cruel joke to play, but at least it had all been in jest. She forced a smile on her face and nodded, “Right.”

The cup. She’d dropped it in her fright, that was what she’d herd before. Belle knelt to the ground, her skirts billowing out around her, to pick up the cup. Her heart plummeted again when she saw it had not escaped it’s fall unscathed. “Oh my,” she said.

Belle swallowed hard, cradling the damaged china in her hands. “I’m, uh, I’m so sorry.” Rumpelstiltskin was peering at her rather strangely. His brow was crinkled and his head was tilted, but he didn’t appear enraged. Not yet.

“Uh…it’s uh…it’s chipped.” She nearly choked on the last word. She showed him the rather sizeable chip in the once valuable cup. “You—you can hardly see it.”

That was a foolish thing to say. The chip was impossible not to notice. This had been a beautiful set, probably worth a fortune and now she’d ruined it. She wanted to mourn the cup, but she couldn’t. Her mind raced with the possible ways he would punish her. Did he really skin people?

“You broke something already?” Cora hissed from her chair.

“I—I didn’t…it’s chi—chipped…I…I.” She hated being so afraid. She had never been so scared before, not even when the ogres were just outside their gates. They would have killed her, these people could do much worse.

Belle stared at her master with a bloodless face. What would he do? She hoped she wouldn’t disgrace herself now. 

Rumplestiltskin blinked at her and shook his head. “Well it’s just a cup,” he said matter-of-factly, waving his hands in the air to show no malice. Belle stared at him for a moment. Was he serious? Did he really not care?

“She ruined it,” Cora said, rising to her feet.

“Can it still hold tea?” he asked Belle.”

“Yes,” she said.

“Then I would hardly call it ruined. Bring it here.”

Belle didn’t allow herself a moment to wonder over this turn of events. She just poured the tea into the chipped cup and set it on a saucer. Her whole body was trembling except for her hands, she wouldn’t let them quiver. She forced herself to be steady as she set the tea next to him. Rumplestiltskin didn’t thank her, nor did she expect him to. But she still watched as he picked up the cup, thumbed the chip in the rim, and then took a sip.

“Not bad, dearie. You surprise me.”

Belle smiled at him. “Perhaps you should have tried my pastries. I might surprise you more.”

A rumble came from his chest, the closest she’d ever heard him come to a normal laugh. “I think you will.”

Her smiled broadened at his words. No, Rumplestiltskin wasn’t to be feared. She could see it now that he never had any intention of harming her. The chipped cup in his hands proved that fact. She wondered why he had wanted her. Had she impressed him before? Yes, she had a feeling she did, but surely that couldn’t be the entire reason.

Cora had called him a beast, so had her father, but he wasn’t that. No, he was not a monster. He was…a mystery. Yes, that suited him much better.

“Fetch me the sugar, dearie.”

Belle nodded and turned around to get the sugar jar. When she did, she immediately clapped eyes on Cora. The woman was no longer simply staring at Belle, now she was fuming at her. Her dark eyes were nearly black but reflected the red and gold of the fire. It seemed like flames were dancing inside of her eyes.

No, Rumplestiltskin wasn’t to be feared, but the same couldn’t be said of his wife.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Belle spent what remained of the night curled up on the straw pallet forcing her eyes to stay dry and trying to make herself sleep. She succeeded at the first with the exception of one or two tears, but failed miserably at the latter. There was simply no possible way for her to get comfortable in her dungeon. Even if the lumpy, burlap bundle of straw she lay on was a feather bed she still wouldn’t have been able to sleep. This wasn’t a bedchamber, it was a prison. It wasn’t her home. It was the lair of the Dark One and his lady. There was no comfort to be found here.

The door opened and Belle sat up right away. It wasn’t her preferred choice, Rumplestiltskin, but his frigid wife who stared at her from the doorway. “Good morning,” she said with a chilly sort of cheer, “I trust you slept well.”

“Well enough, thank you for asking.”

“Are you sure? You look dreadful, pet,” Cora said, “If your quarters are uncomfortable, I can arrange for new accommodations.”

New, not better. Belle wondered what sort of ‘accommodations’ Cora had in mind. Probably outside in the stables or stuck into a hollowed out tree. While the dungeons were hardly homey, being out in the winter chill was a far less appealing offer.

“I am quite happy with my room,” Belle said, “I only miss my father.”

“Really?” Cora sounded surprised, “You’ll have to tell me what that is like.”

Belle blinked back at her. Was she supposed to respond to that? Her mouth opened, but she could find no words to explain her misery at being separated from the only family she had left. Her mother had died along with her little brother when she was only seven years old. Her father had been all she had left in the world. How could she tell this woman what all of that meant?

“Don’t just lay there, girl. My husband insisted on keeping you here as our maid. You have to earn your keep.”

Belle scrambled from the cot. Rumplestiltskin was all flair and maniacal mannerisms, but Cora threatened with what she didn’t say. Her father had always told her, “Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.” Her father had never faced down this sorceress who clearly did not want her to be in her home.

“Rumple is busy in his tower,” Cora said, “so its up to me to introduce you to this new life of yours. You can start by scrubbing the floor in the entryway.”

That massive front hall? That would take hours all by herself and she hardly knew where to begin. Yes, she’d seen servants scrubbing the floors back home but there was a team of them and they had proper clothes, skills and tools for the task. She wasn’t even sure what technique one used to clean stone properly.

“I understand,” Belle said, “but, may I ask for some suitable clothes, Cora?”

“You dare to address me by my name?” Cora said, “Do you think me your equal?” Cora lifted one hand and suddenly all of the air was squeezed out of Belle’s lungs. She reached for her throat where the invisible fingers choked her. She wheezed and coughed, but there was no way to get the air she needed.

“I am not your equal. I am your better. I may not have been born in a castle, but I have made myself far more than you will ever be.” Cora’s dark eyes gleamed wickedly as she spoke smoothly. “You are our slave. Our pet. You are nothing.”

The choke ended as swiftly as it had started. Belle greedily took in the sweet air, doubling over as she coughed and sputtered on it. Her head spun and spots danced across her vision. Would she have killed her? Certainly she would have shed no tears if she had.

“Say it.”  
Belle kept one hand on her throat as she peered up at her. “You are nothing,” Cora said again, “Say it.”

“I—I—I am nothing,” she croaked out.

“Good, pet. I am your mistress and you shall address me so.”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Now get to work.”

Belle scurried away as fast as she could, her lungs burning as she ran. The kitchen seemed to be the safest place to recover, though surely Cora could find her there. Her whole body shook as she huddled in the corner, close to the stove. The night before, she had found some bread and jam in the pantry that she had planned to have for breakfast but the thought of food now made her stomach roll. A part of her wished she’d never agreed to this, but then her heart cramped with guilt at the thought. If she hadn’t, her father would be dead. She was alive and so was he. It was better this way.

Her father. Surely, he was trying to find a way to save her now, though she wasn’t sure it could be done. A whole army would be no match to the magic those sorcerers could wield. Only magic would be a match to them, good magic perhaps. Her fairy godmother.

Belle’s mother had told her that long ago her ancestors had given aid to the fairies and in return, her family became a patron to one of the fairies. At her birth, her fairy godmother had come an bestowed her a gift, though she had no idea what it was. She had only met the fairy when her mother had died and she had come to explain to the stubborn little girl that death could not be changed, that no one deserved blame for her mother’s early end. It had still taken time for her to understand that even magic had its limits.

Fairy godmothers were supposed to be silent guardians, only coming when their godchildren were in need. She couldn’t come when the ogres threatened because of the rules of her kind, she couldn’t turn the tide of fate or end a war to save one life. At least, that was what her father had said when Gaston had thought to mention her. And so Belle had brought up the Dark One, the only magic that was bound by no rules and could save their lives.

Would her fairy godmother come if she called her now? Maybe, or maybe this dark magic that lived inside every stone of this castle would deafen her pleas. No. No fairy godmother could save her, she would have to rely only on herself.

So with an aching heart and knotted stomach, Belle hunted for the tools needed to scrub the floors. She found a bucket and filled it with water from the kitchen. She didn’t know what the maids in her father’s estate used, but she put some soap into the water and hoped it would be sufficient. Another trip to the kitchen closet produced a scrubbing brush, right where she’d found the pail. Magic, she surmised. Maybe if she asked politely the castle would clean the floors for her, not that Cora still wouldn’t insist that she do it.

The bucket was heavy and sloshed over her feet, soaking through her skirts, stockings and instantly numbing her toes. She hadn’t bothered to heat the water, but not she wished that she had.

Belle realized why Cora had chosen this task after only a few strokes. The stone was rough and unyielding beneath her knees. Her unpracticed hands had a tendency to slip from the brush. Within and hours time, her knuckles were bleeding, her arms ached and her dress was clinging to her front. Every time she stood up, she nearly tripped over her voluminous skirts. The hem of her gown was completely ruined.

Cora came by and walked through the still wet patches of the room and smiled as Belle had to go over those stones again. She even ‘tripped over a bucket’, spilling the soapy water all over the place.

“Do you need a rest, pet?” Cora asked in a syrupy voice when Belle returned with a fresh bucket of freezing water.

She could smell a trap. If she said yes, Cora would probably punish her somehow. “No,” she said instead, though every muscle screamed at her in protest.

“Good. When you’re done here, you may beat the carpets. There is a line outside.”

“Outside?” Belle reiterated, glancing at the windows. Snow was piled high on every tree and statue in the garden. It had been summer in the Marchlands, her gown was made of silk and set off the shoulders. She would freeze like a sapling at the first chill.

“Where else? If that doesn’t meet your approval, I will find some other use for you than a maid,” Cora said. Her hand began to glow with that odd violet color. Magic could turn her into anything, a lawn ornament, or maybe and actual pet for her to torture.

“No, mistress,” Belle answered, her heart pounding in her throat, “I am pleased with my position.”

“Very good, pet. Please, continue.” Cora trudged her shoes through the wet stones again, a smile painted on her cold face as she left.

It took her three hours to finish her task. Belle’s back was aching, her hands throbbed and her knees would never forgive her. Now she would have to go outside in a wet dress to beat the carpets in winter. Such a thing was only done in the summer back home.  
Home. If the ogres hadn’t come, she would go down to the village and read to the children. She would read her father’s letters and point out his mistakes as he only trusted her eyes. She would be sewing her trousseau…well perhaps she didn’t miss that. There was some relief in being free of Gaston. She did miss her father terribly and her nurse Agnes and her maid Betsy. They would laugh and share stories as they helped her prepare for dinner. Agnes had filled the role of mother ever since she was seven and Betsy had been the older sister she’d never had. It had been a good life, even if she’d felt restricted at times.

“Just think of this as an adventure,” she told herself as she returned the bucket and brush, “You always wanted to be brave. Here is your chance.”

“Talking to yourself, dearie?”

Belle gasped and nearly tripped over the empty bucket. She whirled around to find Rumplestiltskin standing in the middle of the kitchen. The odd skinned sorcerer did not fit the domestic setting he stood in. Then again, she hardly looked like a kitchen maid in her grubby ball gown. 

“I…well I…” she didn’t know what do say. He hadn’t seemed as frightening as his wife the night before, but perhaps he was only playing some sort of game. She had to remember that she couldn’t trust this dark couple, no matter how kindly he’d treated her blemish upon his china.

“Cat got your tongue?” he quipped and let out a horrid giggle.

“Di-did you need something?” she asked.

“Tea, dearie.”

“Mistress Cora told me to beat the carpets once I finished the floors,” she said. She wasn’t sure if she should make his tea first or do the carpets. The tea wouldn’t take as long, but Cora had instructed her to do the carpets after she finished the floors.

Rumplestiltskin frowned at her. “In this weather? You’d freeze solid and I have enough statues in the garden. Stay indoors, dearie. I’d rather have you last longer than a day.”

Belle was relieved that she wouldn’t have to brave the cold, but she was certain Cora would find something else equally as uncomfortable for her to do in return. She went retrieve the kettle and filled it with water.

“You’re bleeding.” He pointed to her hands.

“Oh.” She looked down at the dried blood on her knuckles. “It’s nothing. It doesn’t even hurt.”

“You’re a dreadful liar.”  
True enough. She had never thought being a liar was a good thing, so why practice at it. “They will mend,” she said instead since it was true.

He clucked his tongue and then took one of her hands. His palm was warm and dry, but not rough like she expected it to be. There were odd calluses in the pads of his fingers. Spinning, she thought.

His free hand glowed with magic and waved over her broken flesh. She felt and odd tingling sensation, like she had pushed her hand into the snow and then held it out before the fire. It only lasted a few moments and when she looked back her knuckles were healed. She held her breath and watched as he did the same to her other hand.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she stared at the freshly healed skin. They weren’t even pink like new flesh after a wound, but clean as if the scrapes had never existed.

“I can’t have you bleeding all over my castle. I don’t care for blood in my tea, despite the stories to the contrary.”

She couldn’t help but smile just a little. Yes, he was queer looking and very odd, perhaps even sharp, but there was a warmth in him. Just a tiny bit. Barely enough for hope, but she had that. A small flicker of hope.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mirror magic is tricky business. They are excellent tools for spying, but are conduits. The user has to be careful to make sure they don’t open the other side for viewing while at the same time able to hear the conversation coming through. Rumplestiltskin had never cared for mirror magic, probably because he detested mirrors. Cora had become a master at it, able to spy through any mirrored surface, such as the copper pots hanging in the kitchens.

She sat at her dresser and watched as her husband healed the girl’s little cuts. The child smiled like he’d done some grand gesture rather than put her flesh back together. Pathetic.

Rumple sat at in an empty chair to watch as she put together his tea. Cora wasn’t sure how she should feel about his obvious interest in the girl. He hadn’t lied before, he had no interest in taking the girl to bed. Seemingly, that was innocent but she knew innocence often led into sin. Lust was fiery hot, but had a quick burn that cooled after a few tries. She should know. She’d enjoyed her own trysts when a man had sparked her interest or had something she wanted. She could understand Rumple wanting the girl for her beauty and her virginity, but there was no lust in his gaze.

She thought back to when they stood in Sir Maurice’s castle when the girl had begged for her life to be taken instead. Cora would have been happy to have her heart and squeeze it into dust right before her old father’s eyes. Rumple had always let her have her way before, but why choose to keep the girl instead?

The girl filled a teapot with boiling water and tea leaves. Her blue eyes found that cup she’d chipped the night before, sitting next to it’s brethren on the tray. She wasn’t a fool, Cora had to admit that, nor was she weak. There was strength in her, not the heavy courage of warriors, but the more subtle, but just as strong power of a one who had a true heart. She wouldn’t break easily, if ever.

Cora watched as her husband selected that silly chipped cup for the girl to pour his tea. There was jolt of something through her. Not jealousy, nothing that powerful, more like a sense of unease. He had used the cup the night before to soothe the girl’s fear, but he didn’t have to now. Was this becoming another one of his odd treasures that meant little to even the greediest of men, but that he horded like irritable dragon? She didn’t like that idea. That meant he saw true worth in the girl.

She didn’t know what he wanted from this maid. Not her beauty, her virtue and certainly not her skill. Cora had kept her husband trapped inside of her hand for over twenty years. She didn’t need a mirror to see this girl could be a threat to that. Magic or no magic.


	2. Gifted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumplestiltskin and Cora are surprised to learn that Belle has a fairy godmother and decide to take drastic measures to bind her to the castle. Cora decides to find out what gift Belle received from her godmother by paying a visit to Gaston. Meanwhile, Rumplestiltskin finds himself becoming entranced by their beautiful servant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this story. I'm so glad you all seem to be enjoying it.
> 
> No Golden Heart smut for this chapter, but Rumple and Cora do lash out at one another some more and Belle sees the cracks in their marriage.
> 
> Oh and just a note, I picture Rose McGowan as Cora in this story. I love Barbara Hershey and think she is quite lovely for her age, but I figured that if she was married to the Dark One, Cora would want to keep her youth. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Even though it was late and Cora would be coming soon, Rumplestiltskin decided he had no desire to leave the little sitting room his wife used as a dressing room. This room adjoined his room to hers and he rarely used it, not for a long time. He wasn’t there to speak to Cora. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure why he was there. He could be in his tower, working on his potions and spells, but the magic didn’t call for him tonight. Instead he sat in the room and read a book.  


The door opened and Cora stepped inside. He didn’t even glance up when she entered the room, though he heard her murmur of surprise. Her perfume wafted towards him, a thick, cloying scent that made him wrinkle his nose. She sat down at her table and unpinned her dark hair, all the while watching him through her mirror. She frowned at his reflection. “Why are you reading that?”  


“Because I am,” he replied while turning a page.  


“It has no power, no spells. What can you gain from it?”  


“Pleasure.” Even he sometimes tired of spellbooks, heavy on knowledge, but light on wit and plot. But this was Cora. She was always scheming, always planning. Even the ornaments she took from her hair were a calculated decision on her part. Sex wasn’t even done for pleasure anymore.  


There was gentle knock at the door. “Enter,” Cora said.  


“You told me to come, mistress.”  


Now Rumplestiltskin turned away from his book to stare at the visitor. Yes, Cora would request Belle’s presence, anything to further degrade the former lord’s daughter. It wasn’t so much as playing the lady’s maid, but to compare her own circumstances. She had to look at Cora’s magnificent wardrobe, full of Agrabahn silks and deep sea pearls and rare lace made from magic spiders. With her clad in her rumpled ball gown, with it’s filthy hem and ragged edges, she did look like a scullery maid compared to Cora.  


She assisted Cora out of her gown, carefully folding it away to be laundered later. He wondered if she’d learned that particular chore. He had thought tea would be a struggle, but she’d surprised him. She didn’t complain about any task set before her, even ones she clearly had no knowledge on how to perform. A bath had been set up, steaming and inviting. He didn’t look a his wife’s naked form. The flicker of delight upon seeing her pale limbs and lush curves had faded. He stared at the pages of books, frowning at the words. When had it become like this? No, best not to think of it. He wouldn’t like the answer.  


“I suppose you wish to bathe yourself, pet,” Cora said as she rubbed sweet-smelling oil on her skin.  


“It wouldn’t be unwelcome,” Belle admitted.  


“And how many in your village had to do without this comfort as the ogres came?” Cora asked.  


“We all sacrificed our comforts,” Belle said.  


“Oh? And what did you lose? Your jewels? Your silks?”  


“Friends,” she replied softly. Now Rumplestiltskin frowned at her over his book. She actually sounded sad. He hadn’t thought of her own loss when he took her away. No doubt she missed her father, her friends, maybe even that handsome knight with the pointy sword. She never spoke of them. How many had she lost to the ogres? How many had she saved by coming here?  


Cora rolled her eyes and continued washing her limbs. She said nothing for a while except to bark out instructions to Belle for more water or oils. Rumplestiltskin tried to read his book some more, but found himself lost when he looked at the pages. The girl was far more interesting. Even with the shabby gown and somewhat tangled hair, she was still beautiful. She had the loveliest eyes he’d ever seen, that perfect shade of blue that matched the sky. And there was also a grace to her, a way she moved that wasn’t merely a trained method to rule over the clumsy peasants. She glided around with a natural elegance that couldn’t be changed even as she performed the chores of a servant.  


“Bring the towel, pet.”  


Belle dutifully produced the warmed towel and wrapped it around Cora’s dripping body. She was a quiet little thing, so unlike the defiant woman who valiantly agreed to die in exchange for her father’s life. Where was the courage? The spirit that had so intrigued him, had she been broken already? That was disappointing.  
“You think you’re brave, don’t you?” Cora asked, “For your sacrifice?”  


“I don’t like to think about myself,” Belle replied.  


Cora let out a laugh. “Really, a noble without vanity? Do you hear that, Rumple?” He ignored his wife and pretended he was deeply engrossed in his book. “Tell me, pet, why don’t you think about yourself?”  


“My opinion of myself hardly matters. What matters is that others think well of me.”  


“Ah, so you are vain. You want everyone to think the best of you so you always make sure you give a good impression.”  


“No, I wouldn’t say that,” Belle said, “What I mean to say is that I can hardly think the best of myself. I would rather depend on the impression of my others. I would hope theirs would be more accurate.”  


“Well said, dearie.” He spoke without thinking. He had meant to be only a listener, not to champion the girl’s cause. Now both women looked at him. Cora glared daggers with her dark eyes, while the girl only peered at him with those brilliant blue eyes.  


Cora couldn’t fight him, not when he wasn’t willing to play her games. Instead she directed her fury to Belle. Now here was a test he wouldn’t mind seeing. “And how did your people think of you while you hid in your castle with her servants and comforts as they died on the field? As they sent their children to be cut down by the ogres?”  


“I didn’t hide.”  


“What was that, girl?”  


“I didn’t hide in my father’s castle,” Belle said firmly, “I helped with the wounded, sewed clothes for the children. I even assisted my father with his battle strategies. I may only be a woman, but clearly you feel a woman has value even in war. I wanted to do my part, not sit in my room and wait for others to protect me.”  


Rumplestiltskin bit back his own smile. Here was the girl who boldly stood amongst her father, his knights and her foolish fiancé. He could admire her courage even if she didn’t know she was playing with fire.  


Cora tightened the belt on her robe. Her dark eyes were black and narrowed in on the girl. She stepped toward her slowly. “You dare to challenge me, pet?”  


“I—I was merely answering…”  


“No.” Cora held up one hand, glowing with magic and the girl was silent, her voice stolen from her. “You were. You think you are better than me, that you are a brave, noble girl because she gave herself over to us. How is that brave, pet? You knew you wouldn’t die. How is that sacrifice?”  


Rumplestiltskin watched as his wife stood only a breath away from their servant. He wouldn’t interfere, but he did wait with is magic coiled inside of him. Cora could do what she will, but he would not allow her to kill Belle.  


“You know nothing of pain,” Cora hissed at her, “You and your fellow nobles always believe you are powerful because of your name and your blood. Here you have no power. Here you are worthless. Don’t you agree?”  


Belle opened her mouth, but no words came out. Rumplestiltskin watched as her chin quivered. Now she looked like a small child, standing before the monster whispered about by old biddies. Finally, she bowed her head and nodded.  


“Good, pet.” Cora waved her hand again and the magic faded. Belle had her voice back, but she didn’t dare speak a word. Rumplestiltskin shook his head at the pages of his book. “Take my clothes to be washed. I want them all clean by morning.”  


With the mountain of clothes Cora could create in just a few days, the girl would be up all night washing. Well, one couldn’t say that Cora didn’t play the spoiled noble well. Belle only nodded again as she gathered up the dress and the rest of Cora’s things. He waited until Cora had left the room, the door closing on its own behind her, before he finally spoke again.  


He clucked his tongue and shook his head. “You disappoint me, dearie.”  


“How so?” Belle asked, her blue eyes blinking at him.  


“I thought you made of stronger stuff than that, yet you crumbled like a dead leaf in her hand. I had hoped you would last longer.”  


“Last longer?” Belle asked. She stared at him now. “Do you toy with me, like I’m some sort of chess piece in your game?”  


“Everyone is a game to me, dearie. I’ve lived too long to see them as otherwise.” He stood up from his chair and tucked his book under his arm. “You showed such promise before. I had thought you were more spirited than to be broken by magic so quickly.”  


“Well as you can see.” She gestured to her ragged gown and tousled hair, “I have limited resources at my disposal. Unlike you and your wife, I have to pick my battles.”  


He let out an amused sound. “And, what exactly, would you use in these battles?”  


“My mind.”  


Rumplestiltskin couldn’t help but laugh at her words. “Well, if I care to battle with your wits at my side, I’ll let you know, dearie. For now, I’ll stick to magic.”  


He continued to smile to himself as he walked to his own room. He could feel her cerulean eyes on his back the entire time. This girl thought she was clever, but magic would out do he. She would learn that soon enough.  


\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  


Today, Cora had left Belle mostly to her own devices. It seemed like the sorceress was working on something, but she didn’t dare appease her curiosity and find out what it was. She was just grateful that she could set herself to an easier task rather than the heavy chores Cora was prone to give her. She occupied herself with dusting. With any luck, Cora wouldn’t set her on some other task and let her escape the day without any sore muscles or bruised knees.  


It really was strange. Rumplestiltskin was clearly the one who had wanted her there, but he rarely gave her any orders. Instead it was Cora who liked to torment her. She thought back to the night before when Rumplestiltskin watched her help Cora bathe and change for bed. She had caught him staring at her like she was something strange to behold. He was the one branded with the name the Dark One, yet she knew he was not a threat to her here. Perhaps he would let his wife torment her, but he had never attempted to lay a hand on her.  


Despite this, she couldn’t say she liked him either. In fact, his previous words still stung a bit. To think that just because she chose not to retaliate against his wife meant she lacked courage. She knew you didn’t bring out a sword to fight an archer, and since she didn’t have any magic at her disposal, she was left with no means to fight back Cora. Perhaps he wanted her to challenge the vicious sorceress. Was he trying to lure her into a trap to get herself killed? She had to remind herself that neither one of them was to be trusted, no matter how kindly he’d treated her blunder with the tea cup.  


She continued to dust the odd collections on display in the room. She had expected that a sorcerer’s castle would have strange items, but she never thought to find a petrified hand, very odd looking puppets or a rather dangerous looking scythe. She wondered how he had acquired them all and why he had wanted them. She had thought she would learn more about him from his collection, but Rumplestiltskin continued to remain a mystery to her.  


Belle was still becoming accustomed to the hum of magic that was persistent throughout the castle, which is why it took her a moment to realize that something wasn’t right. There was a sharp charge to the air, enough to where she could feel the hairs on her arms standing on end. The walls were pulsing with power, brewing with a magic she knew was terribly dark.  


She could hear wood and metal rattling, shaking with something fierce. The large double doors that stood as the front entrance to the castle were pounding. Fear nibbled at her insides, but she abandoned her duster and slowly crept her way to the doors. She had never even tried to open them, partly for fear of what would happen to her but mainly because she knew they would not open for her. Now they groaned as something repeatedly shook them. Very slowly she stepped forward, one hand reaching out towards the doors.  


“Don’t touch them, dearie.”  


Belle gasped, jumping in fright at the words. She turned around to find both Rumplestiltskin and Cora standing behind her. Cora was as darkly beautiful as ever in a midnight blue gown that made her skin as white as marble. She showed no emotion in her dark eyes. But Rumplestiltskin surprised her the most. He looked venomous as he stared at the banging doors. At first, Belle thought he was angry at her, but she realized he hardly seemed to notice she was there. It was whoever was behind them he hated so much she knew he would likely destroy them.  


Belle stepped aside without having to be told. She thought about running, but the curiosity of who could have come here had her feet frozen solid. Her heart hammered in her chest and the breath was caught in her throat. She didn’t know what she was waiting for, but she couldn’t help but fear it.  


The doors flew open, whether by Rumplestiltskin’s hand or another’s, Belle didn’t know. Sunlight streamed in through the open doors and a chilly wind came with it. No one came forward. Rumplestiltskin and Cora stood there for moments, staring out into the daylight. “How dare she come here,” he hissed.  


“She was always bold,” Cora said, “but I’m more curious as to why she has come.”  


The unknown was too much to bear. Belle tiptoed out of the shadows behind them to see what all the fuss was about. There was no one standing in the entry way. No witches or knights. Nothing she thought would be alarming, but someone had to have made such a racket.  


There was a sound like tiny bells that caught her ear. She looked up and saw a small, blue glow hovering in the air halfway between the gate and the castle doors.  


“Rumplestiltskin!” a tiny voice called out, “We must talk!”  


“Talk? When you’ve broken our truce?” he questioned.  


“You broke it first!”  


He made a hissing sound, his stained teeth grinding together. She couldn’t see his eyes, but Belle could see the cords in his neck straining with his fury. He started stalking towards the glow and Cora followed. She hadn’t been invited, but they hadn’t said she couldn’t follow either. Besides, Belle had a feeling she played a part in all of this.  


Rumplestiltskin halted just a few feet away from the Blue Fairy. “I never broke anything!” he growled.  


“But you have,” the Blue Fairy insisted, “and I have come to repair the damage.” Her tiny body was rigid and she had her wand gripped firmly in one hand, but she still smiled at the forgotten third to the party. “Belle, dear, I’m glad to see you unharmed.”  


Belle was about to speak, but stopped when two sets of deadly eyes locked on her. “You know this bug?” Rumplestiltskin said. His voice was sharp and bitter.  
“She—she’s my f-fairy godmother.”  


“What!” His bellow sent her reeling back, throwing her arms up in fear of a blow. It never came, not from him.  


Cora grabbed her arm and dragged her forward. “You little bitch! You never told us this!”  


“I—I didn’t think it would matter.”  


“Wouldn’t matter! You fool!” Cora raised one hand to strike her, the first time she’d ever physically harmed.  


“Stop,” the Blue Fairy ordered. The hand froze in mid-blow. “You may do no harm to her. Not while she is under my protection.”  


Protection. How could she have forgotten? She was under the protection of the fairies. Only she alone, that was why the Blue Fairy could not stop the ogres. But she could help her now.  


“Her mother’s family helped my kind once,” the Blue Fairy said, “I vowed my guardianship over that line until their completion. She is my godchild. You cannot bind her here, not unless she wills it.”  


“I know the rules!” Rumplestiltskin snapped.  


Rules? Magic had laws and restrictions? Belle had never thought of such a thing, not when magic could stop the ogres and bring whole kingdoms to their knees. But surely something that powerful would have boundaries. The fairies lived by rules, there must be rules to Dark Magic as well.  


“Belle,” the Blue Fairy spoke her name gently, “Come with me, child, and I will take you home.”  


Oh what glorious relief that was to hear! Her father, he must have called for the Blue Fairy’s aid. She would got home to him now. They could forget all of this ever happened. She would never have to fear for her safety from Cora or sleep in a dungeon ever again. She would be free and her people…  


A cold dread washed over her like the first kiss of winter. Her people. The ogres were still out there. Rumplestiltskin had stopped them, but he could easily call them back. Belle looked over at the Dark One, dressed in his scales and dark leathers. He hadn’t treated her with cruelty, but that didn’t mean he was incapable of it.  


“If I go with her,” she spoke to him slowly with a calm she didn’t really feel, “will you see it as breaking my word? Would you bring the ogres back? Would you let my people be harmed?”  


“I am a man of my word,” he told her, “if you break your promise, I am free to break mine.”  


She refused to let her sink into disappointment. She wasn’t even surprised. She had known who she was dealing with when she’d made her deal with him. He was a man of his word, even if his word was black. There was some honor in that.  


“I thank you for coming,” she spoke to her fairy godmother, “But I wish to remain here…of my own free will.”  


She heard Rumplestiltskin letter out a titter of glee. She didn’t want to know how Cora reacted. The Blue Fairy gave her solemn look. “Are you certain of this?”  


“I am.”  


The Blue Fairy let out sigh. “You are a very brave girl, Belle. I am proud of you for that. But know that by staying here, I will no longer be able to come when you call. My power has its limits and as long as you remain with the Dark One, I cannot help you.”  


“I-I understand,” she said shakily. She was cutting herself off from the only person with the power to save her. It had to be done.  


“I hope you do.”  


“You heard the girl,” Rumplestiltskin said, “now off with you before I pluck the wings off of your back.”  


The Blue Fairy ignored him. She cast her saddened eyes to Belle. “Good bye, my child. Be strong and brave.” She would try. Oh, she would try.  


She watched as the Blue Fairy lifted herself up farther into the skies, turning into a dim blue glow until there was nothing left. She was alone.  


“You damned fool!”  


At first Belle thought Cora was yelling at her, but when she turned around she saw the woman was glaring at her husband. “How could you bring her here? A child blessed by the fairies!”  


“Not even you detected it,” he reminded her with a hiss, “the Blue Fairy has few families she patrons and you know she keeps them secret. Likely, she is the only one left.”  


“You could have brought their power upon us!”  


“As if they would be a match to us,” he said with a roll of his eyes, “Besides, the girl agreed to stay. She cannot break the truce.”  


“And if she escapes?” Cora questioned him, her eyes finding Belle, “What will stop the fairies from coming then?”  


“And how will she escape?” Rumplestiltskin questioned her, “She has no magic, no skills other than eavesdropping.”  


Belle decided that was her cue to leave. She started edging her way back to the castle, to the safety of her dungeon where she could curl up on her pallet and let her heart break. She would never see her father again, not now. She hadn’t realized she’d still clung to that hope and now it was gone.  


“She could find a way,” Cora said, “desperate souls aren’t afraid to try anything.”  


“And how would you propose to temper your fears? By keeping her under lock and key?”  


“In a manner of speaking.” There was a flourish of dark purple magic and then suddenly something was in Cora’s hand. It was silver and circular, like a crown, but it smaller. She held it up and it opened in half, clinging together only by one hinge.  


“What is that?” Belle asked. The gnawing teeth of fear was tearing into her insides again. Surely, whatever it was, it wouldn’t bode well for her.  


“Just another chain to bind you here,” Cora said, “It is a collar, perfectly harmless, as long as you remain in the boundaries of this castle. Should you leave…well, let’s just say not even the crows will find anything to pick off of your bones.”  


A magic chain forever trapping her to this place. No escape, no hope for freedom. Nothing. Belle shook her head. “No, no please don’t. I’ll keep my word, I promise.”  


“I’m not as trusting as my husband,” Cora said, each step of hers eating ground as she walked forward.  


“No!” Belle shouted. She tried to run, but vines burst free from the earth. They wrapped around her legs first, keeping her still, then coiled around her arms to strap them at her sides. Only her neck was free. “Please, don’t do this!”  


There was no mercy in Cora’s eyes, so Belle looked over to the one person left who might help her. “Rumplestiltskin, please don’t let her do this!”  


“Do not call him that!” Cora shouted, her eyes glittering, “He is your master, address him as such!”  


Belle didn’t listen. Her eyes filled with tears and she didn’t care if she shed them before this wicked creature. “Please,” she beseeched him.  


One cheek of his twitched. He stared at her hard for a long time and then waved his hand. “If it will ease your mind, Cora, then do it.”  


“No!” Belle shouted, but it was too late. The collar was clamped around her neck. She felt the tingle of magic as it ran through her flesh and bones. She was locked to this place, to this darkness. Forever.  


The vines unwound themselves from her and shrank back into the soil. Cora smiled at her, her white teeth flashing between her blood colored lips. “See this,” she held up a tiny silver key, “It is the key to your freedom. And I will keep it with me always.”  


One moment it was in Cora’s hand, then next it was gone. At first Belle thought Cora had cast the key into oblivion, but then she saw it lying in the center of Rumplestiltskin’s palm. “I’ll allow this,” he said, “but I’ll keep the key. She made the deal with me, Cora, not you.”  


“Without my say!” she shouted.  


“You told her to call me master,” he said coolly, “remember what the words means on these grounds. This is my castle, my property. She belongs to me, not you.”  


“We are married! We both rule this place! What belongs to you is mine as well!”  


“Not in this,” he told her. His red eyes met Belle’s tearful blue ones. She saw no remorse there, no shame. She saw nothing at all. He didn’t care that she was hurt by this. He didn’t care about her at all.  


“Go, dearie,” he told her, “and I suggest you keep to yourself until you are called.”  


She couldn’t agree more. Belle picked up her skirts and ran before Cora could breathe a word to stop her. The doors opened for her, whether they sensed her presence or did as Rumplestiltskin commanded, she didn’t know nor cared. She ran through the maze of halls without a thought. Her skirt caught on something but she didn’t stop. The silk ripped but it hardly mattered, not when her dress was hardly more than rags now anyways. She nearly tripped on the stairs a dozen times as she fled those two wicked sorcerers. She reached her dungeon cell and slammed the heavy wooden door behind her. Only then did she throw herself onto her lumpy pallet and let herself cry. The collar threatened to choke the life from her as she sobbed, but she didn’t care. Perhaps even a part of her willed it.  


\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  


Rumplestiltskin had hoped that allowing Cora to trap their servant in the enchanted collar would end the matter. Cora was not one to let anything go, especially when she felt she had been wronged. Belle had taken his advice and cloistered herself away. For once he didn’t blame her for her fear though he had been surprised when she’d begged him to help her. Did she really think he would save her from Cora? Foolish girl.  


Though as she’d beseeched him with her pretty blue eyes filled with tears he’d actually felt…he didn’t know what he felt. Certainly anger at her for not telling them before she was fairy blessed, but mostly shame. Yes, he’d felt guilty for allowing this to happen. The Dark One wasn’t supposed to feel guilt, especially not over some weak girl.  


He wanted to spin and put this mess behind him, but Cora reared her stubborn head again. She vanished the pile of straw before he had time to lay a finger on it. He glared at her with annoyance. “Play with anything or anyone you want, but do not toy with me, Cora.”  


“You think I’m going to forgive your grievous error?” she hissed.  


“Error?” he questioned. He walked over to the pedestal holding a fairy’s wand and picked it up. “Fairy magic is elusive, the Blue Fairy’s most of all. She hides her wards well, there was no way of knowing the girl belonged to her.”  


“You idiot!” Cora snapped, “Don’t you see what this means? That girl is gifted. Surely the Blue Fairy gave her some gift upon her birth. We don’t know what that could be. It could be dangerous.”  


He laughed and set the wand back in its place. “The girl has no magic, no talents. Her gift is likely something trivial, beauty, wisdom, certainly it wasn’t courage.”  


“You’re naïve if you think this is nothing.”  


“And you’re paranoid if you believe she is threat,” he growled at her, “You already put the collar on her. She can’t escape. She has no way of doing magic nor does she have any…” he paused to think of the right term, “dark will to learn any. She is just a girl, Cora. She can do no harm to you.”  


“Just like that beggar meant you know harm?” He turned away from her. It was an old wound, healed and scarred but no longer painful. “Or Milah?”  


He froze. He turned around slowly, pining her with an icy gaze. He never liked to think about his past, especially when it concerned her. Cora knew that. She knew she was bringing up a subject he despised. His one mistake, his one foolish mistake in his long life, one wound that had never healed.  


“You should know better than to resurrect my ghosts,” he hissed at her.  


“Just a reminder of your faulty judgment,” Cora said, one dark brow raised in a challenge, “We should kill her.”  


“Kill her?” He shook his head at the thought. “She is nothing, has done nothing.”  


“She is the Blue Fairy’s godchild.”  


“And now she doesn’t have her protection,” he reminded her, “She can never escape from here, you saw to that. I’ll let you order her about, but you will do her no harm.”  


“Oh?” Cora questioned him. Her dark eyes narrowed at him. “Is she under your protection now? Are you her new fairy godmother?”  


“I always protect what belongs to me,” he said, “And she is mine.”  


He snapped his fingers and the pile of straw reappeared by his wheel. Cora could rant and rave all she liked, but she wouldn’t change his mind. She knew better than to cross him on this matter. He knew she was glaring at him while he ignored her. He sat down at his wheel and began to spin, as if his wife was not in his presence.  


Cora had delivered her blow well. Now the memory of his treacherous first wife was yet another thing he needed to spin to forget. So many wounds he carried in his heart and only a few had healed. Spinning would help to forget the pain. He knew of know cure for these wounds, not even love had worked. No, there was nothing to be done. Not for a monster like him.  


\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  


Her husband was a fool if he thought this changed nothing. Cora had never trusted that girl, she never trusted anyone. But there was something else about her. From the moment they’d arrived in Lord Maurice’s castle, Cora had felt something she’d never felt ever since she learned magic: threatened. Belle gave her that uneasy feeling that the steady ground she had built her plans on was cracking. This worthless, pathetic girl was a threat to everything she had.  


Rumplestiltskin was blind to this. The girl seemed harmless to him and he would never allow her to die. Perhaps she could find a way to kill the girl on her own, but he would never forgive her for destroying his favorite toy. No, he would have to agree to this. He would have to be the one to see that the girl was dangerous.  


Cora knew the answer did not lie weeping in the dungeons. The father would know but Rumplestiltskin had sworn to protect the girl’s family and friends. He would see torturing Lord Maurice as a breech of that contract and likely do something foolish like let the girl go in recompense. No, she would have to find someone else, someone the girl cared little for but would know about her fairy godmother and her gifts. Most everyone in that war room had been a knight, except for one. The handsome betrothed of Maurice’s daughter. Yes, perhaps he would know something about his former fiancée.  


Her first impression of the man was that he was an empty-headed brute. What sort of man brought an ordinary sword to a magic-fight? She’d seen the way the girl had looked at him. He was hardly her choice for a husband, certainly he wasn’t the one she missed when she sobbed for home. He was sharpening his sword with a whetstone in his rooms. Heads of deer, bears, wolves and other predators were the primary decoration. He even had a bear rug on the floor. Yes, he was a brute and conceited one at that.  


Still, he was very handsome, well built with a muscular frame and tall body. No doubt he had many girls giggling and panting after him. Perhaps that was what made him so possessive of Belle. She was not the type to cater to his ego. Yes, the spark of a challenge had surely made him all the more eager to claim her as his own. He would have wanted to learn everything about her in that case. Excellent.  


“Hello,” she cooed softly, releasing the glamour spell that had kept her invisible. Gaston hefted his sword and pointed it straight at her.  


“How did you come here?” he barked, his grip on the sword tight. His body was tense, prepared for battle, but his eyes told a different story. She had changed before leaving the castle. Now she was clad in a dark red silk gown. It had no petticoats or corset, just a tight bodice that barely contained her breasts. The sleeves were nothing but gauzy strips of fabric that caressed her arms like a lover. When she stepped forward, she made sure the length of her leg was exposed by the slit in her skirt. Oh he didn’t trust her, but he definitely wanted a taste of what he saw.  


“Magic, of course,” she said. She pressed one finger to the tip of his sword. “I wanted to see you.”  


“Why?”  


She lets out a sultry little laugh, one she’d perfected while seducing prey farm more wily than him. She drags one finger slowly down the flat of his blade. “I saw the way your fiancée looked at you, Sir Gaston.”  


“You took Belle away from me.”  


“My husband did,” she said as her hand inched closer and closer to his, “I would have rather taken someone of more worth, someone braver, stronger, someone more…virile.” She whispered the last word as she reaches the end of the blade.  


His sword has slackened in his grip while his eyes had a difficult time remaining on her face. “You’re fiancée never appreciated you,” she cooed, trailing her fingers up his arm. His sword fell away, giving her the room she needed to straddle his knees.  


“No,” he admitted, leaning into her touch as she combed his fingers through is dark hair, “Belle was always reading. She never liked to hunt or listen to my stories of battle.”  


“I will,” Cora whispered into his ear, daring to nip at the lobe slightly. “I’ll listen to every word you have to say.”  


One kiss sealed his fate. She needed no spells or charms to get his blood boiling towards his prick, he was as eager as a bull out to stud. He probably had been panting after his little fiancée for months, not that the virgin girl had noticed. He nearly ripped the dress from her body in his anxious desire to have her, not that the damage couldn’t be repaired with magic. The knight showed little knowledge of the woman’s pleasures. Clearly the few times he’d ventured into sex had been with woman who took his coins and let him believe he was a god between the sheets. They hadn’t even broken a sweat before he had found his peak and left her not even with a taste of pleasure.  


Still she sighed and stretched like he’d given her the moon and stars. Now that he was sated, he would tell her anything she desired. “That fiancée of yours was a fool to turn you down.”  


“I couldn’t agree more.” He smiled that smug smile every man has once he’s tried out his prick.  


“I can’t imagine what you ever saw in her to begin with.”  


“She is quite beautiful.”  


“I suppose,” Cora shrugged. “Was that gifted to her by her fairy godmother?”  


“You know about that?” Gaston asked, blinking at her with curious eyes.  


Cora smiled. Ah, so he did know about the fairy godmother. Excellent. “Oh yes. How did you know?”  


“Lord Maurice told me of her fairy godmother when we were formally betrothed.”  


“Oh he did? And what did he say she was blessed with? Courage? Beauty? Magic?”  


Gaston just grinned and kissed her again. “I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me.”  


One of his hands was wandering down to her breasts again, no doubt to give them another pawing. Cora gently pushed him back, laughing as if she was merely teasing. “He wouldn’t say? Why ever not?”  


“I never asked. It was of no importance to me.”  


Cora almost slapped him for that. The pompous idiot. How could he not care about such a thing like that? He was leaving sticky kisses on her neck. She could feel how eager he was for round two on her thigh. “But surely, you must know something about this fairy godmother?”  


“Well, there was one thing, but it was a rumor really.”  


“Oh,” she blinked at him as innocent as a blushing maiden, “And what is that?”  


“Just that the fairy godmother made some sort of prophecy at her birth.” Gaston crouched over her as he thought on it. His brain must have been the size of a walnut with all of that thinking it took.  


“Yes?” she asked. Really, was it that hard to remember one little detail?  


“Oh that’s right,” he said at last, “It was that her love would shatter the darkness and bring the man she gave her heart to everything he desired most.”  


Cora sank back into the pillows. “That’s all?”  


“I think so.”  


What a ridiculous prophecy. Shatter darkness indeed. As if the girl could find a man to love while trapped in their castle. The Blue Fairy may have given her a gift, but not one that would help her ward to defeat the Dark One. That is if Gaston’s words were to be believed. Clearly this man was an utter buffoon.  


“Now,” he said with an eager grin, “Where were we?”  


“Finished, I’m afraid,” she said and shoved him away. A bit of magic and she was fully clothed once again. Really, this had all been an utter waste of time.  


“Come on, can’t we just—.” Gaston’s hopes were dashed when she snapped her fingers. His naked body disappeared in a puff of violet smoke. The knight was gone. In his place was small grey mouse scurrying in terror amongst the ruffled blankets and sheets.  


“Pesky little thing,” she said and snagged the mouse by its tail. Another wave of magic took her away from Gaston’s chambers and to her home-away-from-home. Years ago, she had created a place of her own where she could perfect her potions and curses. Rumplestiltskin had let her share his laboratory before, but he’d tired of her plans for revenge against all of the nobles who’d wronged her. Now she worked on her own to bring down those who had dared to make her kneel before them, who’d thought her worthless and not even good enough to clean their shoes.  


It was a vault buried deep within the earth hidden inside the royal cemetery. King Leopold and his queen, the foolish Eva who’d been her favorite kill, were sharing a tomb not far from her lair. She had drawers and drawers of hearts here. Rumple liked to make straw into gold, she preferred collecting the hearts of those who crossed her. Some she left alive to control, others were the preserved remains she liked to keep to remind her of how far she’d come.  


She had many poisons, charms and spells she used to get what she wanted. Her favorite was in a glass cage on a table. The Agrabahn Viper lay coiled inside. The twin heads snapped up once they spotted her. They hissed and snapped their jaws together. She smiled at them and clucked her tongue.  


“My darling,” she said sweetly, “I brought you a little snack.”  


The knight-turned-mouse squeaked in terror as she dangled him just above the cage. Honestly, he should have been honored. This was the same viper that had killed King Leopold. She released the mouse’s tail and he dropped into the cage. He didn’t have time to run. One head latched onto his neck, the other bit into his back. They both tugged at the same time. There was the satisfying sound as tiny bones crunched and paper-thin flesh ripped, then the mouse was torn completely in two.  


“Good boy,” she cooed. The viper swallowed the remains of Gaston while she occupied herself with her plans. Seducing Belle’s betrothed had brought her nothing but tedious sex. Rumplestiltskin was probably right and she had some useless gift that would not help her in the long run. Cora had bigger things to deal with than some pathetic servant girl. She still had to capture Snow White and destroy Eva’s legacy completely. As for this prophecy, there was nothing to fear of it. She would find no man in the Dark Castle to love.  


\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  


It was late in the evening when Rumplestiltskin finally let the wheel stop turning. He would have gone on longer, but he was out of straw and decided he was done for the day. The spinning had worked to soothe his nerves. Instead, he rung the bell for some tea. He hadn’t seen the girl since that morning, she’d hidden herself well.  


Belle arrived carrying the tea service. He noticed that her eyes were red and swollen, but she her spine was rigid now. In fact, she made a point of refusing to look him in the eye. “Put it on the table, dearie.”  


He watched as she stomped into the room, never so much as glancing in his direction. She slammed the tray onto the table. It’s porcelain contents rattled and the top of the sugar bowl fell off, but she didn’t replace it. She took two steps back and locked her hands behind her. “Is there anything else you require?” Her words dripped with contempt.  


“Oooh,” he crooned, stepping away from his wheel, “You are in a temper. At last, I was beginning to think you didn’t know how to be angry, dearie.”  


“I can’t imagine what you mean.” Her blue eyes, though ringed with red, glittered at him. “Why would I be angry with you? I am just your meek little servant. No, I’m just your little pet!”  


“Ah, you are piqued,” he surmised. He walked around the table to stand before her. “Well, go on, dearie. Let it out. I want to see you furious.” What lovely fun!”  


Belle glared at him, placing both hands on her hips. “Just because I agreed to be your servant doesn’t mean I’m not a person. I’ll perform whatever task you ask of me, I’ll demean myself in anyway you see fit, but do not expect me to pretend to be happy here. I gave up my freedom for my people. Maybe I don’t have magic, but I like to think I have honor and perhaps even some courage. You could have had to decency to let me keep some part of my dignity. Even the lowest of nobles would allow their servants to have that at least.”  


She whirled on her heels no doubt to storm back to her dungeon. He couldn’t help but clap his hands in delight at her speech. “There she is!” he crowed with a flourish of his hands. Belle turned back around to face him with a suspicious look. “There’s the girl I saw in that war room.”  


He smiled at her, pointing one finger in her direction as he dared to step closer. “I knew you had spirit in there. I’m quite happy to see it hasn’t gone entirely.”  


“Why? Are you looking forward to breaking me?” she hissed. Her blue eyes sparkled when she was angry and her chest heaved with every breath she took. Who knew fury could make an already beautiful girl even more desirable? If he wasn’t the Dark One he would be as randy for her as a young stable boy.  


“I won’t be broken so easily as you think,” she continued. She actually strode towards him to snap each word into his face. “I may not argue at every order you are viperous wife give me. I may not give into petty acts of rebellion like you would expect, but know that I still have my pride. I still have my spirit as you so enjoy calling. I will not be defeated by you or her!”  


He grinned at her and leaned forwards just a little, catching the faint whiff of her scent. It was like roses and fresh vanilla. “I hope not, dearie.”  


She blinked at him, the suspicion still in her eyes but confusion mingling there as well. “I beg your pardon?”  


“I’m counting on you being as feisty as you are now for as long as I’ll keep you. It will be so much more interesting this way.”  


“You mean…you’re not trying to break me?” she questioned, still sounding skeptical.  


“Cora most certainly is, but I think you’re up for the challenge,” he said.  


“Then why did you let her put this on me?” She pointed to the enchanted collar locked around her throat.  


“If it will soothe her mind to keep you chained to this castle, then I’ll allow it,” he explained, “but I dealed for you, not her. I will hold on to the key and if I decide to free you from it, then I shall.”  


“Will you do it?” she asked, “Will you release me?”  


“I didn’t say I would, dearie, just that I could. I rather like how it’s brought out your temper like this. Perhaps I’ll add matching cuffs.”  


“Don’t you dare!”  


He couldn’t help but laugh. My, she was marvelous when she was enraged. He should toy with her more often if it brought out this side to her. He was glad that she would shout at him, glad that she showed him no fear. He wasn’t entirely sure why he didn’t want her to cower at the sight of him, but this was the most fun he’d had in years.  


“I dare because you belong to me,” he reminded her, “I can do what I like to you.” He circled her as he spoke. “I can torture you with many different instruments. I can take away your youth and beauty.” He dropped his voice to whisper, “I can strip of your clothes with a thought.” He loved the gasp she made and the way she covered herself with her arms as if to shield her dress from his magic. Rumplestiltskin laughed in delight. Oh yes, this was exactly what he’d needed.  


“You won’t,” she said firmly.  


“Really, dearie? What makes you so certain?”  


Belle squared her shoulders and stared at him with the same look a brave knight has before going into battle. “Because there is good in you.”  


He let out his shrill giggle. “I’m the Dark One. There is nothing good in me.”  


“Well I say there is.”  


“Then you are a fool.”  


Belle lifted her chin in defiance. “You could have killed me when you found out the Blue Fairy was my fairy godmother.”  


“Well I would have, but we made a deal that you would live here in exchange for your family’s life. I never break my word.”  


“Exactly.” Now it was his turn to stare at her queerly. “You have honor,” she said, “A truly dark person wouldn’t care if his word was good or not. He would only seek what he desires, but you keep your word. That must mean there is some good in you somewhere.”  


“Oh?” he questioned, leaning forward so their noses almost brushed together, “And what do you intend to do if you find some, hmm?”  


She didn’t say anything. Her mouth opened just a little and she gazed at him with those lovely blue eyes. There was a spark of something deep inside of his chest, a tiny prick of some emotion he couldn’t put a name to. He didn’t take the time to ponder it. “Well, good luck finding it, dearie.”  


He stepped away from her, striding back towards the table. “You won’t kill me,” Belle said.  


“You’re not worth the trouble,” he said in reply.  


“And Cora? You let her trap me here to satisfy her, would you let her kill me as well?”  


He turned back around. She locked her eyes on him, but he saw no fear there. She was a brave little thing, he had to admit that. “You will come to no harm as long as you are mine,” he said, “Satisfied, dearie?”  


“Yes,” she said.  


“Good, now haven’t you some cleaning to do?”  


She nodded once and he heard her steps heading towards the door. They stopped suddenly and he heard her gasp. This wasn’t the sharp intake of breath from fear, but the sound of pure delight. He turned around and saw she had stopped at the table beside the wingback chair. Her small hands reached out towards the leather-bound book he’d been reading earlier this morning.  


“The Knight’s Folly,” she said with a breath of wonder, “And in such beautiful condition.”  


A book? She was enraptured entirely by a book? Weren’t girls like her supposed to love jewels and silks? He thought she would have panted at the sight of his gold, but no it was his book that made her forget where she was.  


“You read?” he asked in astonishment.  


“Of course. Books are my favorite thing in all of the world.”  


He didn’t bother to hide his surprise. Cora had sneered at the book before, but it was one of his favorites. Obviously Belle was well aware of it’s well crafted plot and vivid characters. “Take it,” he said without even knowing why.  


“What?” she asked as if she couldn’t believe him, but already her hands were lovingly wrapped around the book.  


“Take it,” he said again, “It’s nice to finally have someone here who can appreciate the written word.”  


Belle looked down at the perfectly engraved leather, tracing the letters with her fingers. She smiled when she looked back at him. “Thank you, master.”  


He frowned and shook his head at her. “Don’t call me that. You’re not some sheep dog I whistle at to heed my call, I have a name. Use it.”  


Belle’s smile bloomed even more and she nodded. “Thank you, Rumplestiltskin.”  


The way she said his name sent a shiver down his spine. There was the odd cramping feeling in his chest again. He didn’t know what it was but he was sure he didn’t life it. “Off with you,” he waved in her direction.  


She tucked the book close to her chest and walked out the room, this time with lighter steps. He stared at the space she had occupied, toying with his fingers. Why had he given her that book? It wasn’t like him to be charitable. And why would she think there was good in him? He knew she was a brave girl but he hadn’t thought her insane.  


He went to the tea set and looked at the cups she’d brought. It was the same white and blue porcelain set she’d brought her first night here. Two of the cups were whole, but the third was still chipped. He could fix that with a bit of magic easily enough. Rumplestiltskin stared at it for a long moment and then picked it up to hold it in his hand.  


No, he wouldn’t fix it. He’d keep it the way it was. He poured himself a cup of tea in that cup and sipped at it quietly while staring at the door. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t take to his chair or even his wheel. Instead he stood there and waited…waited for her to return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave your comments. I love to hear what everyone thinks.
> 
> Also, I have no beta so I apologize for any mistakes or typos.


	3. Innocent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thief breaks into the Dark Castle and Belle risks all to free him. When Rumplestiltskin and Cora give chase, Belle is forced to go with them where she challenges the Dark One in the hope that there is some good in him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect lots of stuff from the flashbacks in Lacey (don't worry, the titular character of that episode makes no appearances). I hope you like it.

It had been two weeks since Belle had been forced to wear the collar and Rumplestiltskin had delighted over her temper. True to his word, he had not allowed Cora to deliver any punishments to Belle or give her any chores that would hurt her. He still let Cora order her around, but it wasn’t anything Belle couldn’t handle on her own. He rarely gave her any commands except for his tea and meals. He had never asked for the book back. She could only read it in the evenings when her chores were done. Occasionally when the two sorcerers were busy and left her to her own devices, Belle would take the book to the trophy room and sit in that cozy room to read.

She was still puzzled by the sorcerer. Cora was easier to understand because her manner never changed. She always acted selfish and showed no warmth to anyone, not even her husband. When she smiled, there was no joy in it, only calculated pleasure or silent disdain. Rumplestiltskin was very different. Sometimes he seemed just as cruel and selfish as his viperous wife, but others he could almost be called kind. There was a…heaviness to him, like he’d gained a lot but lost just as much in his long life. 

He did have moments of kindness. Besides the book she now savored slowly, he had also given her a pillow to add to the comfort of her cell. At least she chose to think of it as that. He hadn’t wrapped it up as a gift, but flung it at her after a bit of an argument they had. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since coming to the Dark Castle. She hardly noticed that she’d nearly scorched a hole in his shirt using the coal iron. He fixed the problem with magic easily enough, but not before waving her mistake in her face. Her tired mind and her own lack of fear in him allowed her to snap back at him her discomfort and how if she hadn’t been so tired maybe his shirt wouldn’t have paid the price. He had shown no remorse, but after barking at her to be more careful he flung a plump pillow at her for her use.

Gratitude was lost on him. If she ever offered him her thanks or made note of his kindness, Rumplestiltskin would snap at some selfish reason for his gifts or simply give her a calculated look. What sort of world did he walk in that he could not see thanks for what it really was? That he was afraid to admit to any kindness on his part? Of course she could be wrong. Maybe he wasn’t kind and just as dark and selfish as he liked to say he was.

The castle always provided the meals, a blessing for Belle as she only knew a few simple recipes learned before her father barred her from the kitchens. However, she did have to clean up the dishes. As always, there was a dish left for her to eat once everything was finished. It could take her all morning for her to clean the plates and put them away, but the meal managed to stay fresh and hot. Either the castle did not know the difference between its masters and the servant or it was another act of kindness on Rumplestiltskin’s part.

Her stomach rumbled as she dried her last dish. It was only porridge, but she thought she saw some honey she could sweeten it with. It was one of her favorite breakfasts as a child so it brought back good memories. A crash disturbed her thoughts and chased away her appetite. At first she thought she’d broken something, but the sound was coming from another room. Somewhere upstairs.

Belle abandoned her chores and hurried out of the kitchen. She had to hold up her tattered skirts as she ran up the stairs, she would try to mend them again later. She came upon the trophy room where she could now see shattered stained glass from one of the windows covering the floor in a shades of blue, red and green. A man wearing a green cloak with the hood drawn up was searching the room with his eyes. He didn’t notice her, but she did see a bow slung over his shoulder with a quiver full of arrows. He strode over to one of the pedestals containing a little wooden stand on top. A fairy’s wand was placed carefully on top. She’d never had the courage to ask Rumplestiltskin how he had acquired that wand. She was sure it wasn’t through innocent means.

Belle didn’t know if she was supposed to stop him or how she was going to do that. She liked to think she had courage, but she certainly couldn’t stop an arrow from killing her. Besides, something told her that this man wasn’t here for petty reasons. An ordinary thief would have piled all of the gold and silver into a sack, but this man was too particular in his treasure. He wanted the wand. But why?

“Are you sure you want to do this, dearie?”  
Belle gasped and saw that both Cora and Rumplestiltskin had appeared in the room. This wouldn’t bode well for the thief. She could feel the magic crackling through the air, enough to make the hairs on her arms and neck stand up on end.

The thief removed his hood. He was a young man with black hair and a beard. “Pretty sure.” His voice spoke of some nobility, but Belle couldn’t recognize what territory. She watched as he tucked the wand into the quiver.

“I wouldn’t be so confident,” Cora said in a voice as smooth as fresh cream.  
Rumplestiltskin waved one finger at him, like he was merely chastising a child for stealing an extra cookie from the jar. “If you don’t know how to use that wand, it can do nasty things to you.”

No wonder he’d insisted she never touch anything without his command or go to that tower of his. It seemed to Belle that magic was more trouble than it was worth and far too costly.

“Well then,” the thief pulled an arrow from his quiver, “I’ll stick to what I know works. Do you know what this arrow can do to you?”

Belle’s heart clenched in her chest, but Rumplestiltskin showed no fear. “Has to hit me first,” he said almost in a sing-song voice. Cora simply stood by and watched as her husband vanished, not even in a puff a smoke, just gone in an instant.

He reappeared on the other side of the room, his hands clasped in front of him as if he was being introduced at a ball instead of being threatened to be skewered with an arrow.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” the man said, “An arrow fired from this bow will always find its target.” He grinned as she spoke, “Don’t you just love magic?”

There really was no need to answer that question.

There was a snap as the bow was released. Belle watched as that arrow sailed to where Rumplestiltskin was but he vanished before it struck. He reappeared by the thief. Meanwhile, the arrow swooped through the air, turning around and then arcing high before burying itself deep into Rumplestiltskin’s chest.

Belle gasped and stumbled a few steps forward. Cora caught her before she could come to aid, her nails digging into the bare skin of her shoulder. They had to help him. He could…

Despite the fact that an arrow was now embedded into his heart, Rumplestiltskin only showed surprise rather than pain. The thief paid no attention to the sorcerer, just answered his own question by saying, “I know I do,” and walked towards the door.

Rumplestiltskin appeared right in front of him, apparently no worse for the wear despite the arrow. “As do I!” he crowed happily and ripped the arrow free from his chest. There was no blood, no wound. He was perfectly fine.

Belle let herself feel relief there, though she was puzzled by the feeling. She hardly knew him, couldn’t even say that she liked him really. But looking at Cora told her everything she needed to know. If he was gone then she would be at Cora’s mercy. She had none.

“But don’t you know?” Rumplestiltskin said after he made the arrow disappear, “All magic comes with a price. And in your case, that’s me.”

Now the thief actually looked afraid. So was Belle, for his sake. Cora waved her hand and the thief vanished in a cloud of purple smoke. Only his bow and quiver remained. They clattered the ground, the arrows spilling out on the carpet. “Well, these will be nice additions to my collection,” Rumplestiltskin said.

“I wonder how he got them,” Cora mused. Belle watched as her husband picked up the fallen weapons.

“No doubt he stole them, being that he is a thief.”

Belle stared at the empty spot where the man had stood. “Is he…did you…kill him?”

“No,” Cora said, “Not yet. He’s in the cell next to yours. Would you like to keep him company?” 

“No need to be cruel, Cora, the girl has hardly warranted that,” Rumplestiltskin said without glancing in Belle’s direction. He was studying the bow intently.

“What are you going to do to him?”

“Just question him, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin said, but there was too much glee in his voice. Cora was smiling again, a cool, wicked smile that spoke of dark delights.

“You mean torture him?” Belle said, aghast.

“If you want to be more specific.”

“You can’t!” Belle shouted.

“And why not?” he asked. There was a bite to his tone but his voice was low. A warning sounded in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t just let this be.

“He wasn’t a thief,” she blurted out.

Rumplestiltskin let out a hideous laugh and removed the wand from the quiver. “Oh really? Was he just going to borrow this for a lark and then bring it back? What is your definition of thievery, dearie?”

“I mean, he clearly wasn’t here to just steal from you,” Belle said, “He had a purpose. He didn’t want any of the gold or jewels you have here, he just wanted the wand. There must be a reason for that.”

Cora wafted closer to her. “You seem to be aware of his intentions. Do you know him? Was he here for you?”

“No, of course not,” Belle said. Cora’s dark eyes were narrowed in suspicion, at least that’s what Belle thought until she felt the collar around her throat gain heat.

The silver band burned into her skin, making her cry out at the pain. Belle fell to her knees and clawed at the collar. She was certain it was going to burn its way into her flesh and bones. Her fingers touched it, but they did not burn. Only her neck was aflame.

“Enough!” Rumplestiltskin snapped. The pain was gone, her flesh whole and unharmed. Belle looked over at him, wondering how he had stopped the collar’s torture. Then she saw it. The key was clutched between his fingers, the key to her freedom. With it, he must be able to control the collar as well. Cora couldn’t use it without his will.

“Don’t jump to irrational conclusions, he never even glanced at her. He only wanted magic and he thought stealing from us would be the easiest way.” He smiled wickedly then. “We’ll have to correct his assumptions.”

Belle saw a spark alight in Cora’s cold eyes. Apparently if she couldn’t torture her, then the thief would do just as well. She stayed on the floor until they had left, wisely choosing to be forgotten until she could find her courage again.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There are many different ways to go about torturing people and Rumplestiltskin was well versed in all of them. He could starve the thief, put him on the rack, remove his fingernails, or even dangle him over boiling oil until his toes burned off. All were excellent, but sometimes the simplest ways were the most effective.

The prisoner was chained to the ceiling like a haunch of meat, his shirt torn open so his flesh was bared and waiting to be damaged. A table was set up and Rumplestiltskin made sure every instrument was laid out upon it for the prisoner to see. There was a pot of hot coals smoldering, giving off a cloying smell to the air. He put an iron knife into the coals, blade first. 

“You’re a brave soul,” Rumplestiltskin said to the dangling man, “I’ll grant you that. A damned fool, but a brave one. Not many would dare to steal from the Dark One.”

“I’ve always been a rebel at heart,” the man said as jovially as he could strung up as he was. 

“Excellent, this should be fun for me.” The knife was ready now, glowing bright red, the edge nearly white with heat. He held it aloft for the man to see, to fully understand what his theft had brought upon him. “I’ll start with something simple. What is your name?”

Then he let the burning knife slice through the meat of his chest. The man screamed while Rumplestiltskin laughed. It was always fun to see a man cut down to the very marrow of his true self. Torture could make cowards out of heroes, whores out of virgins, even beggars out of kings. He wondered what he would find out of this thief.

He asked several questions and made several more cuts, but the man remained tightlipped. Oh he screamed, but he never begged or pleaded and he never answered any questions. Rumplestiltskin moved on to another blade, this one coated with a burning poison that would make it feel like his innards would cooking. Still, he spoke not a word. Not even a ‘please’.

He went through several aprons, stained by blood or poison and once by vomit. He always tossed them outside for the girl to pick up and wash. Torture was such messy business but it usually produced better results than this.

“You do realize that I get bored very easily when I don’t have answers,” he said, tapping the bloody knife against his chin, “And when I get bored I tend to do very wicked things, like pull a man’s arms off or cut off his favorite appendage. Would you rather have no arms or be a eunuch?”

Well, he knew his own answer to that question but the thief didn’t bat an eye. Really, this was no fun at all. “Very well, I’ll make the choice.”

Before he could go about it, the dungeon door opened. Cora waltzed in wearing an Agrabahn drape gown of deep red silk. The whole of the dress was held together by one silver clip on one shoulder. She was a beautiful thing, a goddess of sin that would make any man’s blood race. Perhaps it was the hours of torture that kept his blood cool then.

“How is it going?”

“Slowly,” he admitted, “We have a very stubborn thief in our midst.”

Cora looked at the man slowly, starting with his chained hands, trailing down to his face, the curve of his neck, his torso and the tips of his toes before returning to linger on his open, bloody chest. “I’d like to have a go. Perhaps a woman’s touch is what is needed here.”

He let out a snort at the thought. Cora had her own methods of getting what she wanted, but he had a feeling the man wasn’t in the mood for her sport. But he had no reason to say no, not when his own methods had been less than fruitful.

“Have at him, my dear,” he said and waved her in the direction of her prey.

He walked out of the dungeon, but he was only giving her the allusion of privacy. Just because she was wife didn’t mean he trusted her. One wave of his hand and the previously solid door became translucent, but Cora would never know. Or maybe she did and simple didn’t care.

“Hello,” Cora said to the man in a gentle voice, soft and breathy. “Do you know who I am?”

“The Dark One’s wife.”

“Indeed. My husband can be the irritable sort. I hope he hasn’t hurt you too much.”

“I’ve been in worse scrapes.”

“Oh I’m sure,” she said and lightly scraped her long nails over the man’s bare chest. “Poor dear, my husband has hurt you so badly. Let me make it better.”

She leaned forward and pressed her lips gently to the prisoner’s. It was a healing kiss, purging his body of the poisons and aches as well as healing the wounds. Rumplestiltskin waited to see if the thief would lean forward to prolong the kiss, whether desire had been kindled in the man. The man showed nothing, not even gratitude at her offer. Rumplestiltskin smiled at the flicker of surprise that flashed across his wife’s face.

“My husband thinks that pain is the best way to uncover the truth, but I find pleasure to be an even greater incentive.” The thief only had a moment to comprehend her words before she unfastened the clip on her dress. The material peeled away from her body, catching first at her breasts, whispering down her belly, hips and thighs before pooling at her feet. Cora was more than just desirable, she was darkness in it’s most beautiful and seductive form. Magic had kept her young, but more than the quest for power had given her a need to be dominant. It was her look of youth but her aura of power that had men anxious to claim her for their own.

Rumplestiltskin wondered how long this man would last. None of the others could handle Cora for more than a few minutes before they begged to have her body.

The thief did sneak a peek. A naked woman stood before him, not many men wouldn’t find that sight appealing. But there was no spark of desire, no flash of lust. He did give her a slight grin. “You flatter me, my lady, but I have no need for your offer.”

Cora let out a laugh. She didn’t believe him, just thought he was resisting. “No need to be shy. My husband won’t bother you, not while I’m here. I’ll protect you. All I need is your name. I like to know who my lovers are.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a thief if I wasn’t anonymous.”

“Perhaps you’ll tell me why you tried to steal from my husband?” She ran her nails down his bare chest, toying with his nipples. “So brave, so strong, please, I really must know.”

“My reasons are my own.”

Her hands continued to play with the man’s body, but he was immovable. It was a peculiar thing, but Rumplestiltskin could see that Cora’s charms would amount to nothing as well. Whoever this thief was, he was not tempted by the dark delights his wife offered. Frankly, Rumplestiltskin had no interest in watching her seductions any longer, even if her failure was amusing.

As he was walking away, he could hear the prisoner let out a shout. Obviously Cora had gotten fed up with his lack of desire and was turning pleasure into pain. That suited him just fine. Rumplestiltskin abandoned the dungeons to head back up into the heart of the castle. His apron was bloody and he would need a fresh one. Only a monster would torture a man without keeping his blood off of his clothes. 

First he checked the kitchens for the girl, but she wasn’t there. That left him with no option but to seek her out. She wasn’t with the laundry nor scrubbing the front hall. He knew she wouldn’t dare hide away in her dungeon or venture to his or Cora’s rooms. It was the sound of bristles scratching the floor that led him to his destination.

She was sweeping the parlor, perhaps the only room he and Cora shared anymore. She had little skill with the broom but was vigorously attacking the floor with it anyway. It wasn’t unusual to see the girl on edge, especially with Cora, but she was along. Why was she so rigid? Why did she seem so pale? He even heard he let out a sniffle, like she was trying not to cry.

The prisoner let out a another bellow of pain. The girl stopped and bit her lip, her whole body trembling. So that was the way of it. She hated the idea of someone being harmed, even a man she knew nothing about. Soft, that’s what she was. Weak and…innocent.

Such innocence. As he watched the gentle way she moved, the way her blue eyes watered with tears at the sound of cruelty, he couldn’t help but see the innocence she cloaked herself in. She was the purist thing he’d ever seen.

He felt that flicker again, that slight ache in his chest that he couldn’t explain. He waved it away and walked into the room. “I need another apron,” he said as he ripped off the leather gloves and tossed them on the table.

“Uh,” she spoke up softly, tip toeing towards him like the floor would shatter in a moment, “they’re uh on the line drying. It’ll be some time.”

“Fine, fine,” he snapped out, not really angry at her. Oddly enough, it was hard to be truly irritated with the girl. He’d have to figure out why that was later. “Get to cleaning this one as well.”

He threw the bloody apron towards her, but she stepped back before it could hit her. It instead landed on the table in a rumpled heap. She’d have to clean and wax the table again later. Since he’d have to wait, he might as well go to his tower and spin for a while. Perhaps he could find some other means to get the information he needed. A truth potion would work, one mixed into a poison. “I’ll be back later,” he said off hand.

He didn’t even glance at her as he walked away, but maybe he should have. The girl found her spine again and spoke up boldly, “All this because he tried to steal some magic wand?”

“No, because he tried to steal from me,” he whirled around and pointed at his own chest. Apparently he could get irritated with her. “The Dark One,” he reminded her of his title, “You try that you get skinned alive, everyone knows that.”

There was a stony look in her countenance. It was the same look she had as she stood in that war room and offered her life in exchange for her father’s. There was the odd stirring again, this time it prickled through his whole body, almost feeling like…no, not lust. She was pretty, but he had never been interested in pure virgins, far more trouble than they were worth.

“Actually,” she said, her chin lifted and her eyes narrowed on him, “No, they don’t.”

Well, she would know the stories better than him since it was his legends that had her village scrambling for his aid. Easily corrected. “Well they will after they discover the body.”

A giggle escaped him as he walked away. Skinned alive, yes that would be delightfully fun. And Cora thought sex was the key, well he would teach her. And the girl, her too.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cora came stomping upstairs later, her cheeks high with color and blood spattered on her skin in different places, but oddly enough her gown was untouched. For once she ignored Belle completely other than to snap at her to get out of the way and do something useful. Well, she had an idea on that score.

First she stopped by the kitchens to grab a cup of water. She would have liked some bandages too, but she didn’t know where those were kept, if they had any at all. Magic was the most common thing in the castle and it apparently was in everything. It was the only comfort she could offer the poor man.

He was in the cell next to her ‘room’, strung up by chains from the ceiling. She could see scratches on his chest from what looked like fingernails. Cora, she surmised. Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t have gotten his hands literally dirty. The man looked at her from the corner of his eye and let out a mirthless laugh. “Have they sent you to finish the job?”

“No!” she exclaimed, “No, not at all.” She hurried over to offer the cup to his dry lips. “Here, drink this.”

He gratefully swallowed the cool water, some of it dribbling out of his mouth in his haste. Quenching his thirst was only the first part. The next was simply what needed to be done. “I couldn’t let this continue,” she said. The rope that held him up was attached to hook in the wall. Belle raced over to it and began to unwind it’s complex knot. “It’s inhuman,” she said.

“I couldn’t agree more,” the man said, “But I fear now that he’ll turn his wrath on you.”

“If he does I’ll stand up to the beast that he is,” Belle said as she tugged on the rope, “Because no one, no one…” the knot gave and the man collapsed on the ground. She hurried over to untie his hands, “…deserves to be tortured.”

“Well he may beg to differ.”

“Well I don’t care, he doesn’t frighten me.” The words flowed out without a thought, but in a heartbeat she knew they were true. He didn’t frighten her. She was doing this not only because it was right but because she knew Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t hurt her for this. No doubt he would be furious, probably enraged, but she just knew he wouldn’t lay a hand on her.

“Can you say the same for her?” the man questioned. Now Belle stiffened. He also sensed that out of the two sorcerers, Cora was the real danger. She wondered what Cora had done to the man that made Rumplestiltskin’s torture seem the kinder one. Cora wouldn’t bat an eye before doing her harm. The collar seemed to tighten around her throat as the cold truth hit her.

But Rumplestiltskin still held the key. Cora could only hurt her if he allowed it. She didn’t believe he would do that. At least she hoped not.

“Hurry up,” she said instead and held out a hand to help him to his feet, “He’ll be back soon.”

The man’s knees shook, but he remained standing. He bolted for the door, but stopped to look back at her. “He will kill you, or she will, unless you runaway with me.”

She wished she could. She knew this man could be trusted, that he would have taken her home back to her father. But the collar was an ever present reminder that she didn’t have the ability. “I can’t run,” she said, one hand reaching up to touch the silver band at her throat, “Cora has bound me to this castle. Beyond that, I made a deal to serve him in exchange for him protecting my kingdom and my family from the ogres. Even if I could leave, I may survive but my family surely wouldn’t.” He would keep his word as long as she stayed.

To his credit, the man gave her a grave look and nodded. “All I can do is wish you luck.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling at him. “Now go. Go!” she shooed him away. He raced up the stairs, surprisingly light. Hopefully neither of the two masters of the castle would hear his escape.

Belle hid herself in the kitchen, pretending to tidy up the pantry in order to keep her secret off her face. She knew if she ran into either one of them they would read the truth from her eyes and stop the man before he could get away. Her hands shook as she moved bags of flour and jars of honey into different shelves. She had done right, she knew she had, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid of what would happen now. Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t hurt her. She just knew it. But Cora…

After an hour of hiding, Belle returned to the parlor to clean and wax the table. She’d washed the apron and gloves already. Soon the other aprons would be dry and Rumplestiltskin would return to continue the torment. She carefully wiped the blood off of the table with water and a rag. Then she used the cake of wax and spread it over every divot in the wood. She had to keep her mind busy. But soon enough she was out of chores and there was no one around to tell her what to do next.

Belle took the book he’d given her and found her seat in the corner. Reading always helped to soothe her. The little nervous ticks melted away and she lost herself in the words. 

Then they came down. Cora had changed out of her silk dress into a velvet, skin-tight black gown that was some how more appropriate and unseemly than the one she’d left. Rumplestiltskin had retrieved one of his clean aprons and gloves. Now he set to work sharpening an enormous knife with infinite care. By the gods, had he really meant it when he said he’d skin the man alive? He had other tools laid out on the table, probably for later. If she hadn’t been certain before that she’d done the right thing, she was now.

“I’ll try not to be too loud,” he said, running the whetstone on the knife one more time, “I can’t promise the same for our prisoner.”

“We could cut out his tongue first,” Cora said as the walked towards the door.

“Yes, but where’s the fun in that?”

They both laughed as the walked together while Belle shuddered at the thought. There was comfort in knowing he was far away now. She turned her eyes back to her book and waited. It wouldn’t be long now. The knot in her stomach tightened with every passing second. In a few moments, her fate would be sealed.

There was shout of surprise that made her jump. They’d found him gone. It was time to face them.

She didn’t bother to pretend to read now. She sat still and waited as they stormed over to her. “Where is he?” Rumplestiltskin snapped, his face set in stone.

“Gone,” she said simply. Her voice came out stronger than she had hoped. “I let him go.”

“What?” he barked.

“You little bitch!” Cora hissed from beside her husband.

“He was a thief!” Rumplestiltskin reminded her.

“Which doesn’t give you the right to kill him.” Even in her kingdom, the death sentence was only delivered to murderers. Besides, she didn’t think he was a thief. Not exactly.

“It gives me every right!” he growled. “Oh let me guess, you think he’s a hero,” he pointed at her, “stealing from me for some noble cause. You read too many books, dearie!”

Her books? Before, he had shown enthusiasm, or at least admiration, that she loved books. Now he was attacking her favorite pastime? Her only pleasure in this place. 

He waved one hand and the purple cloud engulfed her lap. The book vanished, slipping from her fingers like it had never existed. “There,” he hissed, “Maybe that will stop filling your head with poisonous thoughts!”

That stung her straight into her heart. He had told her just a few weeks ago that he enjoyed having someone here who appreciated the written word. Had he forgotten that already? She felt her cheeks grow hot at her eyes begin to fill with tears, but she swallowed them back. He did not respect tears. He wanted her to show courage and so she would.

“I didn’t free him because of what I read in my books,” she said, “I saw good in him.” Like I think I see sometimes in you, she nearly said. Instead she added, “That man only wanted to escape with his life.”

“Oh is that what you thought?” he mocked her, his eyes snapping with fire, “Our thief escaped with more than just his life.” He gestured towards one of the pedestals, the very one that had held the magic wand. Now it stood empty.

Belle stood up slowly, trying and failing to hide her surprise. She had truly thought he would just leave. She felt a bit betrayed at the thief now for using her gift to steal a treasure.

“You were tricked, you foolish, gullible girl!” 

Belle looked back at the empty pegs that had cradled the wand. A wand. He’d risked his freedom for some trophy…or had he? There was piles of silver and gold in the castle and all he took was the wand. He’d risked his life for a wand, why do that? Why not take the gold if he was an ordinary thief?

“Th—there must be an explanation,” she said, her voice not as firm as before, “We don’t know why he needed that wand.” She was certain that it was only the wand he needed and it must have been for a good reason.

“He took the wand because he wanted magic!” he snapped. He turned around then, shouting at her all the while, “People who steal magic never have good intentions.”

His words struck her oddly. They almost sounded…personal. It was just another example of what a mystery he truly was.

Cora was uncharacteristically silent. One glance at her showed that she wasn’t glaring at Belle with fury. Instead she was smiling. She was glad to see her husband so enraged. She wanted him to be angry with her. Of course she did, perhaps she even hoped he would kill her now.

“No!” she protested and hurried over towards him, ignoring Cora’s sly look, “No, you can’t tell what’s in a person’s heart until you truly know them.”

“Oh we’ll see what’s in his heart all right,” he said, “When I shoot an arrow straight through it!” She jumped at his pantomime and swallowed back rising bile. “And because I am a showman…” he whirled his hand out and the man’s bow appeared in his hand, “It’ll be with his bow! And because this is your fault, you get to come with me and watch and know as the blood drips from his carcass. It’ll be you and your rags to wipe it up!”

He gave her one last glare and then walked away. Cora continued to give her a poisonous smile, one dark brow lifted high. She followed after her husband, whispering something that made him snarl, but Belle didn’t hear it. She remained rooted to the floor, her breath coming out in gasps. She had been wrong. He was going to kill her. The collar kept her imprisoned in this castle, he couldn’t have forgotten that. She was going to die. Cora would get what she finally wanted.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, but suddenly he was back, this time without Cora. He flung something teal and gold at her. “Here!” Belle caught it automatically. “Put it on!”

She shook it out and saw it was a cloak, feminine and soft and finer than any she’d ever seen before. Why was he giving her a cloak if he only intended to kill her? Perhaps he really had forgotten. “Don’t dawdle,” he snapped.

“But…but…”

“But what!”

“But I’ll die,” she whispered. One hand reached up towards her throat. “The collar…”

“Have you forgotten you little fool?” he hissed. He opened his palm to show the silver key. “I control the collar. It obeys me! If I want you to leave the castle than it will let you. If you try to escape, I can command it to kill you ! Don’t tempt me on that score! Now hurry up!”

Belle’s fingers shook as she slid the cloak over her shoulders. It fasted at her throat with a silver clasp. In the pockets she found a pair of brown leather gloves, an odd bit of kindness seeing as how he was so furious with her.

“Thank—.” He cut her off by grabbing her arm in a bruising vice and dragging her out of the room. A carriage was waiting for them outside along with Cora. “Get in!” he growled. He pushed her inside, almost making her fall to the floor of the carriage. She saw no driver before she stumbled, though the horses were real enough.

Rumplestiltskin helped his wife inside and took the seat next to her. Cora pulled out a lap robe and spread it over her lap, sharing it with her husband. She made sure to look at Belle as she did. Despite the cloak, it was still quite cold and the carriage was decoratively open. The blanket would have been welcome, but she knew she wouldn’t get even a corner of it.

With a wave of Rumplestiltskin’s hand the carriage set into motion. Belle huddled in her seat and stared at the floor. She didn’t want to look at his stony eyes or Cora’s cruel smirk. For the first time, she regretted her deal with him. Death by ogres might have been preferable to this company.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rode for hours, mostly in silence. Belle decided that holding her tongue for now was the best course of action, despite her certainty that he meant her no harm. If anything, this little trip proved it. Oh he was madder than a hungry chimera at her, but he hadn’t laid a hand on her. Cora also proved to be silent for the most part. She was enjoying this, Belle could tell. She was glad Belle was in trouble. She liked watching her as she shivered on the other side of the carriage, occasionally producing something hot for her to drink that only made Belle feel even more cold.

Sometimes Belle wondered if Cora was jealous of her. It was a strange thought because she had nothing to compete with her. Cora was just as beautiful, had magic boiling inside of her and more wealth than even King Midas could imagine. Belle was simply Belle, nothing more. Yet she also seemed angry with her husband for bringing her here. It was true there really was no need for a servant, the castle provided their needs far better than any mere mortal. So why had he wanted her to serve him?

Finally he spoke after stewing for so long, “We’re losing track of him. This forest is too thick.”

Belle lifted her head, unable to contain the way the corners of her mouth curved into a smile. “Maybe we should return home.”

Cora let out a snort of disdain, but it was Rumplestiltskin who argued back with her. “What? And let the thief escape?” His eyes were hard and cruel. “What would people think if I spared the life of someone who stole from me?”

“That there’s actually a man hiding behind the beast.” She knew a part of her believed that. Someone who enjoyed books and never punished a servant for her disobedience couldn’t be as monstrous as the rumors claimed. 

“There isn’t,” he said quickly.

“Then why didn’t you kill me when I freed the prisoner.”

“Don’t push your luck, pet, I still might,” Cora said from her seat, but Belle focused her attention on Rumplestiltskin.

“Well I would have,” he said, “but good help these days is really hard to find.”

She knew that was a lie. He no more needed a servant than she needed an extra head. “I think that you are not as dark as you want people to believe.” It was a bold thing to say, but she could feel that it was right. Cora may have been as black as night, but there was still something good inside Rumplestiltskin. “I think that deep down there is love in your heart.” His brows quirked a bit at her words so she quickly added, “And for something more than power.”

“You’re right,” he said softly after a moment. He leaned towards her in his seat as he spoke, “There is something that I love.”

For a heartbeat, Belle wondered what he would say. He leaned even closer and she felt…something. It was coiled deep in her belly, an odd quivering sensation that wasn’t fear. She couldn’t rightly say what it was.

“My things!” he crowed with glee, laughing at his own joke. He held up one hand to stop the carriage, but Belle hardly noticed. That odd feeling was gone, replaced with fury.

“You really are as dark as people say,” she declared. She didn’t know why she had doubted it. She really was a fool to think he had good in there somewhere.

“Darker, dearie, much darker.” He sounded so delighted with that truth.

Cora smiled and placed her hand on his shoulder. “We both are.” That Belle could believe easily.

It was the soft nickering of horses that alerted Belle that someone else was sharing their road. The thief had come on foot so it couldn’t possibly he him, not to mention there was no twinkle of mirth in Rumplestiltskin’s eye at having found his prey.

Rumplestiltskin stepped out of the carriage first and offered his hand to help Cora out. The sorceress gave Belle an icy smile as she exited the coach. That smiled fell when he kept his hand out for Belle to use. He had all but shoved her in the carriage when this little adventure began, why did he choose now to act the gentleman? She considered refusing his aid and climbing out on her own steam. However, she had been taught to never be rude, even when they were deserving of it.

She could feel the warmth of his palm even through the leather gloves. She couldn’t recall if he’d felt like flesh and blood when he’d escorted her away from her home, she’d been too frightened to notice. Even after all of the cruel things he’s said, she still marveled over how he could as ordinary as any other man.

He paid her no mind once she was out of the carriage and began to straighten herself out, smoothing her skirts and adjusting her cloak. He and Cora were far more interested in their visitors.

It was a small entourage of soldiers, but of no affiliation Belle could recognize. They had a jailer’s cart tied behind one horse but it was empty. One man climbed down from his horse and gave a pretentious sniff to the air. He had brown hair on the long side and would toss it around to try and get it settled just right. He reminded her of Gaston and how her former fiancé would always stop at every mirror he passed to check his reflection. He even stared at her in the same way that made her insides clench into knots.

“What are you doing in my woods,” the man demanded.

“Pardon the intrusion, Sheriff,” Rumplestiltskin said, “I’m looking for a thief, he attacked me with this bow.” He held up the magic bow as proof of his words. “I tracked him as far as these woods and then he vanished.”

The sheriff fingered the string of the enchanted bow. “Yes, I know exactly who you’re after.” He moved his gaze back to his eyes. “I also know who you are, Rumplestiltskin and Cora.”

“Our reputation precedes us,” Cora said with a smile.

“Yes, as does your pension for making deals.” He was looking at Belle again. This time she ducked her eyes to the ground. “I’ll tell you where you can find your thief, if you give me something in return.” He took a swig of his flask. Belle could smell the strong spirits from where she stood.

Rumplestiltskin showed only boredom at the notion. “What do you want?”

The sheriff pointed past him. “A night with your wench.”

Belle gasped, her entire body seizing up at his words. He couldn’t be serious. But one look into his dark, hungry eyes told her he absolutely was.

Rumplestiltskin turned to look at her, for once she could read his evident surprise. What would he do? He has said he wouldn’t kill her, but he would he give her to this man as punishment for her freeing the prisoner? Her heart froze inside her chest as he turned back to the sheriff.

“She’s not for sale,” he said. Belle released the breath she’d been holding. Silently, she took back every thought she’d ever had of his cruelty. Her faith in him was restored.

The sheriff laughed. “My information really isn’t worth her company?”

“My husband and I are in a hurry,” Cora spoke up, “We don’t have time to wait for you to fuck the girl all night.”

“An hour then.”

Cora shook her head. “Please,” she scoffed.

“Twenty minutes.”

Belle paled as his lascivious gaze, her heart plummeting to her slippers. Gods, would they agree to this? Cora looked at her with a positively wicked smile. “That seems reasonable.”

Belle took a step back, but there was no escape. She could feel the collar hard against her throat with every breath she took. If she ran she’d die. Of course death might be preferable to this.

“Actually,” Rumplestiltskin said, “I have another idea.”

He waved his hand in a flourish and there was a cloud of purple smoke surrounding it. When it cleared a slippery, pink tongue rested in his palm. The sheriff put his fingers in his mouth, but they only found teeth. Belle’s own tongue itched as Rumplestiltskin pinched his fingers around the sheriff’s loose one. The man croaked but to no avail. Without his tongue, he couldn’t speak.

Rumplestiltskin giggled. “I propose a new deal, I give you this back and in return, you tell me everything you know about the man I am hunting.” The sheriff sputtered as he waved his tongue at him. “You ought to be more careful with your possessions. Do you agree to my terms?”

The sheriff groaned and gargled. “What was that?” Rumplestiltskin asked, holding one hand to his ear as if it was his hearing that was the problem. The sheriff groaned some more, this time with more earnest. “I’ll take that as a yes then.”

Another burst of magic and his tongue was restored back into his mouth. “Start talking.”

“The thief that you’re after,” the sheriff began immediately, “I’ve been chasing him for years. He ruined me! He stole the woman I loved and made me the laughing stock of all of Nottingham.”

Good for her, Belle thought. If this sheriff was willing to rape another woman then she was better off with the thief.

“Where can I find him?” Rumplestiltskin asked.

“Last I heard he was hiding out in Sherwood Forest.”

“And his name?”

“Robin Hood,” the sheriff said, “He goes by Robin Hood.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled broadly and nodded. “Thank you, sheriff. I’m glad we could come to an agreement.” He gave him a deep, mocking bow.

Even though this was the sheriff’s lands, Rumplestiltskin made no motion to leave. The sheriff bolted for his horse and slapped the reins so hard the horse whinnied in protest. His men galloped after him, no one dared to look at the travelers.

“Very clever, Rumple, though not a very tasteful method,” Cora said once the men and horses has passed them by, leaving only dust in their wake.

Rumplestiltskin whirled around, his face set in a horrible sneer. “And you think your offer was? You dare to barter someone’s body for trade just for sport!”

Belle gasped though neither took notice. He was furious for her. She had never expected that of him.

“You said yourself you have no desire to bed the girl,” Cora snapped, “If the sheriff wants to try his prick with her, what of it? Her virginity is no commodity for us.”

“She agreed to be our servant not to whore herself to arrogant twits for your amusement!”

“It would have gotten us what we wanted and have taught her a valuable lesson about crossing us.”

“I never agreed to be a whore master,” he hissed. There was barely an inch of space between them and yet they continued to snap at one another as if they were leagues apart. Belle could only stand there and watch. “Nor to peddle virgins. Considering your past, you should know that disgusting practice rather intimately.”

Belle gave them another gaping look. Cora didn’t notice, she just waved away her husband’s words. “She was to be traded away in marriage, there is no difference. I know that as well.”

“Be as loose with your morals as you please,” he said, pointing one long finger at her, “but you will not use her or any other girl as trade again. The next time you want to sell someone for a night, it better be yourself!”

His words rang through the forest, silencing even the birds. Belle could only stand there. She couldn’t have said anything even if she wanted to. There really was nothing to say. He showed no remorse at what he’d just said, just continued to challenge his wife with his hard eyes. Cora’s dark eyes narrowed in slits, but he remained unmoved. She snapped her fingers and vanished in a puff of black smoke.

“Where—where did she go?” Belle asked. The forest was so silent now that the yelling had stopped.

“To one of her lovers, I’m sure. Her own idea of revenge,” he said as he stared at the spot his wife had occupied. His words were so empty, the rage gone with his wife.

“Let’s carry on,” he said at last and turned around to walk back to carriage. Belle lingered, giving a wary glance to the now empty road. Somehow it seemed like a part of Cora still remained in that spot, like she left an impression in the air.

He assisted her into the carriage again before they lumbered on. They sat in silence for awhile. Belle stared at him openly while his eyes were set on the passing forest, his jaw rigidly clenched. She was afraid to speak lest her lash out after her with cruel words. 

It was still bitterly cold in the open carriage and the wind provided no relief. Belle hugged herself but her arms were just as cold as the rest of her. She tried rearranging her cloak to block out more of the cold. Her dress just wasn’t designed to be worn in these parts of the kingdom, not in this climate. She couldn’t feel her nose anymore when she reached up to touch it.

“Here,” Rumplestiltskin finally spoke. He grabbed the lap robe from Cora’s empty seat and tossed it at her. “I have no need for it.”

Belle spread the fur mantle on her lap, feeling a few degrees warmer already. “Thank you,” her words came out soft, like the air would shatter them.

“I can’t have you freeze to death and your shivering was irritating.”

“I didn’t mean for the blanket, at least not just for that,” she admitted, “Thank you for what you did.”

“You enjoyed seeing the sheriff without his tongue?” he quipped with eyes alight with mischief. He still enjoyed his game.

“No,” she said, shuddering a little at the reminder of that horrid display, “I meant for not letting them…for letting her…” she couldn’t put the ugly words into life.

“I have a reputation, dearie,” he said, “I won’t be called a rapist or a proponent of it. If you had shown interest in the man I’d have gladly let him rut you in the forest.”

Belle blushed at his words, crude as they were, she was glad he did not condone rape. Why did Cora? As a woman, shouldn’t she be just as livid at the thought? It spoke volumes for who was the real monster of the two.

“How do you know that I’m…that I haven’t…?” It was improper to voice such a questions, but her curiosity mean more to her than her governess’s lessons. Besides, she would never venture out into society again, what was one lapse in decorum with the Dark One?

He grinned at her. “How do I know you are a virgin?” Belle gave him a tiny nod. “I haven’t done any magic on you, dearie. It’s really quite simple, you can’t speak a word about sex and blush whenever anything remotely coital is brought up. It’s painfully obvious that you’ve never been fucked.”

She blushed just as he said she would. He giggled, giving her another flourishing hand motion before sitting back in his seat. “Did you think I wouldn’t be?”

“You’d be surprised how many princesses and noble girls like you prick their fingers for their marriage beds,” he said, “You’re rather unique among your kind, dearie.”

“Maybe you’ve met the wrong nobles is all.”

“Well the wrong nobles are the ones who want to make deals,” he replied with another hideous giggle.

Belle decided to leave it there. She didn’t want to know what kinds of deals he made or with who he made them. His deals were always trouble, she knew that much. “Why does she hate me so much?” Belle asked. It was an answer she could not discover on her own.

“I don’t rightly know,” he admitted, “She’s never liked nobles, but normally she only saves her ire for those who’ve wounded her before.”

“But I haven’t done anything to deserve being sold like a cattle in the market,” Belle said.

“I suspect she’s bothered by your purity and wants to bring you down to her level, not that she was ever a maiden like you.”

It almost sounded like a compliment, though she could never be sure with him. He was very good at twisting his words. “Does she really have lovers?”

Belle was shocked by her own tongue. She had only thought the words and had not meant to give them life. Surely he would snap at her now and she would deserve ever bit of it. She held her breath and waited for her punishment.

He merely shrugged. “I’ve lost count. It hardly matters, they are merely toys. It’s not a pretty sight when she tires of playing with them.”

His manner left her stunned again. He showed no wrath at her or at Cora’s wanton ways. Shouldn’t he be angry? No man wants to be a cuckold and surely the Dark One least of all. It was his lack of anger that gave her the courage to say, “But doesn’t her faithlessness bother you?”

All amusement left him. He shifted in his seat, staring at her with unblinking eyes. One cheek ticked slightly. “I’m tired of these questions.” He pointedly looked out the window. Belle didn’t dare say anything more.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Perhaps Cora had a point about teaching the girl a lesson. After de-tonguing the sheriff, she had begun her campaign to end his revenge and return to the castle sans wand and thief. Having her carry the thief’s head in basket all the way home ought to tell her not to mess with the Dark One.

“You know, it’s still not too late to turn back,” she said. She was having to hold up her skirts to avoid roots and rocks. The forest had gotten to thick for the carriage, but that didn’t matter. He knew they were close. Now that he had the thief’s name, magic would help track him.

His simply ignored her suggestion. Foolish girl. That didn’t shut her up, instead it made her angry. “You know I’m not just going to stand by and watch you kill a man!”

“Well you’re welcome to sit if you like!” he snapped, “but you are going to watch. That’s the whole point of this little expedition, remember? To see what your actions wrought.”

The magic tingled in his body, alerting him that they were close. Very close. His eyes peered into the trees. Sure enough, there he was, cloaked and hiding in the shadows. “Found him.” He pointed so the girl would be sure to see him.

Now for the fun to begin.

He carefully moved closer to get a better view. Even though this bow was magic, he still needed to see his target as well as make sure the girl had an unobstructed sight of the thief’s death. “Look,” she spoke up gently, “he’s waiting for someone.”

The girl was right. A wagon led by two horses pulled up. In the cart was a woman, pale as a ghost, an apparently well on her way to becoming one as well. A shame, the thief could have made a deal with him for a potion to save her. Alas, he was not akin to mercy.

“That woman,” she said.

“That must be the one he stole from the sheriff,” Rumplestiltskin said. She might have been pretty if she wasn’t so close to death, he could see why the sheriff would want her back. Though, he could also see why the sheriff would have liked a go with Belle. She was younger and a tad more lovely than the soon-to-be-dead woman, though that was only his opinion.

“She’s sick,” the girl said in a voice full of sympathy, “She’s going to die.” That was how the world worked, some lived and some died. She should know that lesson well.

“Yeah and so is he,” he murmured and lifted the bow, ready to notch the arrow.

“Stop!” she cried and tugged on his arm. She had no idea how close she was to becoming a toad. The anger and magic was pooling in his gut, ready to lash out and strike. It took all of his strength and his patience to fight it back down. Damn that girl!

She didn’t even notice his ire. She had this rapturous look on her face—a look that would have surely given him several filthy ideas if he wasn’t thoroughly irritated with her—as she watched the scene below them.

The thief had the wand out and was slowly dragging it over the woman. Magic hummed through the air, prickling his senses. Light magic, disgusting. But with each pass of the wand, the woman’s skin gained some color. Her coughing subsided and death retreated from her doorstep. Robin Hood gave the now healed woman a tender smile, full of love and joy. It made Rumplestiltskin hate him even more.

“I’m right about him,” the girl babbled with renewed glee, “About why he stole the wand. He did it so he could heal the woman he loves.”

The way she said it was full of romance and happy dreams, stupid girl. Love never turned out the way one thought. He knew that lesson better than anyone. “He’s still a thief,” he reminded her.

“And she would have died he hadn’t stolen your wand!”

“And now he gets to die!” The rage was mixing with something else now, jealousy. He didn’t want this man to be happy. He didn’t deserve it. No one did. “And she can tell all of Sherwood Forest what happens when you cross Rumplestiltskin!”

“There!” he shouted and raised one arm. The ground opened up and sucked her down inside. She was trapped from the waist down, unable to free herself no matter how hard she struggled. “That should give you a good view.”

He raised the bow again, aligning the arrow with the nocking point. “You don’t have to do this!” she pleaded with him, “There’s good in you!” Perhaps it was her tongue he should have taken out.

“I was right about the thief and I am right about you!” Where had he heard such a thing before? Someone else had once had her eternal optimism. 

“You don’t have to be like this, papa. There is something good in you, I know it.”

“That’s you, my son. You’re my light.”

His light was gone, stuck beneath a thick slab of stone. She was wrong. There was nothing good left inside of him. He only had Cora and she was a fountain of darkness. He wouldn’t know what to do with rays of pure goodness anymore.

The woman stood up from her wagon, the folds of her cloak falling away to reveal a round belly, heavy with child. Rumplestiltskin’s own blood ran cold at the sight.

“She’s pregnant!” Belle cried out from her little prison. Pregnant. Robin Hood lifted his woman out of the carriage and gave her a loving kiss, one hand reaching down to touch her swollen belly. He had done the same once. He had had the same hopes.

“You’re not the kind of man to leave a child fatherless,” she said firmly, though she couldn’t be sure. How could she be so sure? What kind of a person was she? She had known the thief wasn’t after magic for his own gain, how could she possibly be so certain that there was good in him? After everything he’d done, everything she’d seen him do, and she still thought he wouldn’t fire that arrow.

She was wrong. She had to be. He didn’t have the luxury of hope. That had died a long time ago.

He raised the bow again, nocking the arrow on the target. The bow was asking him what he wanted to hit. He answered.

“No!” Belle shouted.

The arrow sailed through the air, heading straight for Robin Hood. It veered past his shoulder and buried itself into the wood at the top of the wagon. Robin Hood looked at the arrow and no doubt recognized what bow it had been fired from.

“We’ve been found,” he said, “Marian we must go.” He helped his young wife onto the remaining horse, mindful of her belly.

Rumplestitlskin just watched them all the while, his hand still raised from when he’d loosed the arrow. A part of him demanded to grab another arrow and try again, but he knew it would do no good. The bow knew what target he desired even if he hadn’t want to admit it himself.

“What happened?” Belle asked, he voice high and still shocked by what hadn’t been.

“I missed,” he grumbled. Robin Hood swung up on the horse and kicked it to move. Rumplestiltskin didn’t care. He should, but he didn’t.

Instead, he forced the ground to move again, bringing Belle back to her original standing position. “Get back to the carriage,” he ordered her, “I’m bored of this forest.”

“You—you’re not going after him?”

He stared at the disappearing horse and shook his head. “He’s not worth the effort.” 

“You spared his life,” she said.

“What? I did nothing of the sort.”

“That bow has magic in it,” she stated in her matter-of-fact way that reminded him of a prim governess, “It never misses its target.”

“Well perhaps the magic just simple wore…” he turned back to snap at her and stopped. She was standing right next to him, he hadn’t even heard her approach. Now he was staring into those magnificent blue eyes, the exact color of a cloudless May day. She blinked up at him in a soft, dreamy way that had his body humming again. “…off.” He finally managed to finish.

His eyes dipped down to stare at her rose colored lips. She was so close. If he drifted down just a little more then he could…what was he thinking! He couldn’t do that! He wasn’t actually attracted to this girl!

Belle smiled slightly and he felt his black heart pick up a new rhythm. Then she leaned towards him. For a half a moment he actually thought she was going to kiss him, it was both a relief and a disappointment when she put her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck instead. He didn’t hug her back. He could smell the rose scent in her hair, feel the warmth of her creamy skin.

All too soon, she pulled away. She continued to smile at him, her hand patting his shoulder once before she drifted away from him. His entire body screamed at the injustice of being denied her touch. He just stood there and watched her walk off, not sure how to put one foot in front of the other. He wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. Actually, he wasn’t. 

By the gods, he’d been wrong. When he told Cora he wasn’t interested in the girl, he had lied and hadn’t even know it. He was attracted to this blushing little innocent who could easily have been Persephone, picking her way through the gardens completely unaware that the King of the Underworld watched her from the shadows.

Belle stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. “Aren’t you coming?”

He shut his gaping mouth and found the quiver full of arrows without even thinking about it. She smiled at him again before turning back around to head for the waiting carriage. He felt his own foolish grin tug on his mouth as he watched her retreating form. She truly was magnificent.

Belle didn’t bring up his act of mercy as they walked back to the carriage. Instead she chattered on about how lovely the forest was and wondering over the names of the flowers that grew there. She even picked one pink bloom and brought it to her nose to sniff. Such innocence. He’d never seen the like before. It should make her seem like a little child, but instead it only made her even more appealing as a woman. No wonder the sheriff had been eager for a twenty minute fuck.

He helped her back into the carriage and tried to ignore the way his hand tingled at the way her palm fit into his hand. This needed to stop. He was a married man and she was a maiden. No doubt she dreamed about a handsome prince before she closed her eyes at night and not some lecherous old monster like him.

It’s just an infatuation, he told himself as his eyes noted the way her hair shone with ruby tints in the fading sunlight. It was hardly a sin to admire such beauty and kindness that sat before him. No man or monster could resist such a thing and he was both.

She tired of trying to prod him to talk and focused more on keeping herself warm. Night fell and she had bundled herself up in her cloak and the lap robe, but she continued to shiver. When her teeth began to chatter he knew she would freeze to death before they made it back to the castle.

“Come sit beside me,” he told her gently, “You’ll warm up faster.”

Belle didn’t hesitate. She leapt into Cora’s empty space, tucking her feet beneath her skirts to keep them away from the chilly floor. Her nose pressed into his shoulder and he could feel how cold her skin was. He didn’t dare put his arm around her, choosing to prop it up on the backrest of the seat so she could feel it’s heat but not his touch.

“Th—thank you,” she stammered out.

“Your chattering teeth were grating my nerves,” he said instead.

“You could just say you’re welcome,” she said, “That is the courteous thing to say when someone is grateful for your kindness.”

“I’m not kind.”

“Yes you are,” she said. He could still see the pale blue in her eyes as she looked up from his shoulder, “You’ve been kind to me.”

He swallowed hard at her words, ringing loud and clear with the truth. He couldn’t come up with some witty retort so he chose to say nothing. He stared out the window as the carriage lumbered on. It was some time before he realized Belle was a little too quiet. He looked over and saw that the girl had actually fallen asleep, her long eyes lashes nearly brushing the tops of her rosy cheeks. Her head rested on his shoulder. He didn’t dare move an inch lest he wake her. He just listened to the quiet sounds of her breathing and trying to ignore the sweet way she smelled.

The reached the castle all too soon. “Wake up, Belle,” he prodded her gently. She opened her eyes slowly and gave him a sleepy smile, the way a lover would upon waking up in the early morning. Gods he was in trouble.

“We’re home?” she asked, still blinking away her fatigue. He only nodded in reply before opening the door and helping her out. The castle was empty and dark. He doubted Cora would return until morning, perhaps not for a few days even. He should feel some guilt for his words, but that particular emotion eluded him. Cora had crossed a line and he had every right to call her actions into question.

They left their cloaks on the rack and headed back into the parlor. He still carried the enchanted bow and arrows. “Looks like you won’t be needing that bow anymore,” she said, pleased at the way the night had ended.

“Actually I think I’ll hold onto it,” he held it up to admire it before hanging it on his chair, “You never know. It could come in handy some day.”

“Well if you don’t need me for anything else,” she said, smiling at him, “Good night, Rumplestiltskin.”

Perhaps it was the way she said his name or maybe it was how happy she looked when she smiled at him, but he wasn’t ready for her to go. Not yet. “No wait,” he called out quickly.

She turned around to give him a curious look but not an unwelcome one. “There is something else.” Something that would make her smile again.

He spoke not a word as he led her up to the eastern tower. The western wing housed his lab and a private library for books on magic and spells, but this…this library was meant only for pleasure. Cora never came in here so sometimes it was a good place for him to be alone when he only wanted a book. He hadn’t thought anyone would understand that pleasure. The gasp that fell from Belle’s pretty lips proved him wrong.

“Temper your excitement, dearie,” he said in an effort to sound stern, “This is merely another room for you to clean.”

“It’s…it’s beautiful,” she said in awe as she slowly took in the shelves and shelves of books. Only she would find a room full of dusty books to be a beautiful sight. “There’s more books in here than I could read in a lifetime.”

“Well I hope you can clean faster than you can read,” he said. There was no point in pretending this wasn’t a gift. He saw her pick up The Knight’s Folly, the book he’d taken from her before. She opened it to find the page was marked exactly where she’d left it.

Belle looked up from her book and met his eyes. There had to be magic in her gaze, it was just too powerful to ignore. “Did you do all of this for me?”

He couldn’t answer that. It was far too dangerous of a question. It didn’t matter, she already knew. He held up one finger at her and tried to sound forceful. “I better not see a speck of dust gathering on any of these books.” He was quite certain she would make sure of that by visiting this library every day for a new book to read.

Belle just smiled at him, biting her lip a little as if to hold back her laughter. “What are you smiling at, I’m serious.”

But she knew he wasn’t. Somehow, she knew him so well already. Her smile broadened and she reached out to take a hold of his pointing finger. His bravado fell away when she took his hand and held it in both of hers.

“You’re not who I thought you were,” she said. Were there actually tears in her eyes as she smiled up at him? “And I’m glad.”

He stood there and stared into those endless blue eyes, noting the softness of her palms and gave her the barest of smiles back. He continued to smile at her even as she began to browse the stacks and stacks of books. It was just a small infatuation he had, nothing to bother over really. No man could be immune to such sensual gentility, sweet grace and innocence.

Such innocence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave your comments so I know what you think. Can any of you guess where the title of this story comes from?
> 
> Next chapter: Belle explores outside the castle grounds and comes upon a secret she did not expect. Meanwhile, Cora gets a little revenge on Belle, but winds up distancing herself from her husband anymore when he discovers what she's done


	4. Sickness and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle explores outside the castle and comes upon a secret she does not expect. Meanwhile, Cora gets a little revege on Belle, but winds up distancing herself from her husband even more when he discovers what she's done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. School, life, and other fics all got in the way. But I finally found the time and and I think this one is a good chapter. Cora is so wicked in this one, plus you learn a little more about Rumple and Cora's marriage. And, as always, Belle and Rumple get a little closer which is always fun. 
> 
> Oh, and to all of those who wanted to know, the title of the story does come from Shakespeare's Sonnet 116. But since Cora and Rumple do not have true love, their's is a marriage of "untrue minds".

Belle rose with the sun every morning now in order to get started on her chores. Rumplestiltskin and Cora breakfasted every morning at eight which mean she had to have the table, tea, and plates prepared. She knew she had no right to complain over the hour as she did not have to cook the meal, unlike the servants at her old home. Still, none of this was easy in her rapidly deteriorating gown.

She wasn’t sure if Rumplestiltskin didn’t notice or if Cora had insisted she remain in her ball gown. She nearly always ripped it climbing out of her pallet. Her petticoats showed through in many places, now stained grey and brown. One shoulder had torn and dangled across her bodice. She had used string to keep her bodice from gaping open to expose her bosom, though it hardly mattered. She had no reputation here to ruin.

Belle assumed eventually she would have to receive new clothes or else she would be resigned to wearing nothing but her chemise. Perhaps Cora desired that. Certainly Rumplestiltskin didn’t. The idea of him seeing her half-naked made her cheeks flare and she forced that thought away. Perhaps when she can find the time alone with him she could ask for a new dress. She stood a better chance without Cora present.

Ever since they had returned from Sherwood Forest without Robin Hood’s head, things had changed between her and Rumplestiltskin. He could still be crude and downright nasty at times, but she simply battled him with her own witty retorts. He liked being challenged, she had learned. Yet, there was still moments of kindness between them. Occasionally he would find her in the library and would suggest a book for her to “dust” as he called it. He never liked to admit being generous, but she knew he did not want her to fear him. Perhaps he even wanted to be her friend.

It was the exact opposite with Cora. Her mistress had not punished her outright for what happened when her husband had not allowed the Sheriff to ravish her, but she had issued as many difficult chores she could think of. The tub in her room had stopped filling at her command and she now made Belle bring buckets of hot water up and down the stairs several times, insisting it was never hot enough. After her fourth trip, Rumplestiltskin had finally stepped in. With a flick of his wrist, the water in the bucket boiled, scalding his wife when she stepped into the tub. 

Belle appreciated his attempts to shield her from Cora’s cruelty, but she suspected that only made the woman resent her even more. So Belle kept her pleasure at seeing Cora defeated to herself, smothering her laughs into her pillow when she was alone in her cell.

The kitchen had prepared boiled eggs, toast with an assortment of spreads, sausage, and hot porridge. She arranged it all on a tray and brought it to the dining room. The table was set and the tea was hot. Rumplestiltskin came down first and she smiled when she saw him. As always, he selected the chipped cup when he poured himself some tea.

“I’m enjoying the book you recommended,” Belle said.

“I thought you might. You have a keen mind so a complex plot wouldn’t deter you.”

She liked how he said that. Oh her father had praised her cleverness and asked for her to read his letters, but she knew he did it more to please her than because he had faith in her skills. But Rumplestiltskin meant it when he said she was intelligent. He didn’t just give into her whims, he actually valued her input.

“Have you read The Corsair?” Belle asked. He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Poetry has little appeal to me.”

“But it’s so cleverly written,” Belle insisted, “And I rather think you’d find a kindred spirit in the main character.”

“You think me a pirate?” he quipped.

“A rogue, I suppose,” she said.

“Hmmm,” he mused over his cup, “I rather like that.”

They shared a smile and Belle wanted to say more, but the sound of Cora sweeping into the room forced Belle to step away from him. She knew Cora would not take kindly to them chatting over books.

Belle played the role of footman over their breakfast, passing them jam or pouring more tea. Back home she normally took a tray in her room unless they had guests. She had always liked reading and conversing with her handmaid while enjoying her morning meal. Rumplestiltskin never ate very much. Neither did Cora, but she enjoyed forcing Belle to fetch more things from the kitchen and leaving it barely touched.

Belle went to make another pot of tea and returned just in time to see a dove fly into the room. The bird moved through the window like the glass was nothing more than air, some trick of magic Belle guessed. A little scroll was tied to one of his legs.

Rumplestiltskin removed the scroll and let the dove fly out the same window again, perhaps to some coop he kept it in. Belle poured more to tea into Cora’s cup, but watched him read the scroll with a crease between his brow.

“Anything interesting?” Cora asked.

“Your lover is dead.”

Belle gasped at his bold announcement but Cora continued to salt her eggs like he had only spoken of the weather. “Who?” she questioned.

“Prince James.”

Belle covered her mouth with her hand. Prince James was Cora’s lover? She’d met the man one two occasions and found him to be an arrogant, selfish creature who loved nothing more than sticking his sword into something. Naturally, he and Gaston were friends. What had Cora wanted with Prince James? He was handsome enough, but there was little else to recommend him.

“And I suppose King George wants you to bring his son back to life,” Cora said with a shrug.

“Can you do that?” Belle asked without thinking. Cora shot her a nasty look for speaking out of turn, but Rumplestiltskin shook his head at her.

“Dead is dead, dearie,” he said, “Perhaps you could reanimate the body, but the person will never be who they were. No one wants a walking corpse for a prince.”

“Well at least there is a spare for George,” Cora said.

“But James was an only child,” Belle said.

“Did anyone ask you to speak?” the sorceress snapped.

Belle took a step back, but Rumplestiltskin ignored his wife entirely. Instead he gave Belle a positively wicked smile. “No, he wasn’t.”

Belle frowned at him. “I don’t understand.”

“The dearly departed prince was no prince at all. Kind George and his queen couldn’t have children so they made a deal with me. I found a poor sheep farmer and his wife who were struggling to feed two newborn sons and I gave them a hefty sum for one of the infants.”

Belle gaped at him. “You actually do deal with children?” She’d heard rumors of him stealing newborns from their mother’s breasts, but she’d never thought it was true.

“The family agreed to the deal, it was their choice to sell their child for a small fortune,” he said with a shrug.

Belle supposed that was a good point. He didn’t force anyone into these deals, even if they often sided in his favor. Still, she imagined it would have been difficult for the family to give up one of their children, even if they were starving and in desperate need of the money.

“Will you go?” Cora asked.

“Of course,” Rumplestiltskin said, “Do you wish to pay your respects to your bed warmer?” Belle blushed for Cora at his snippy comment. The woman herself showed no emotion.

“Dead is dead, as you said,” Cora replied, “Though it is a shame. He had very good hands.”

Belle was certain her face was stained crimson now. What sort of woman said that to her husband? Having an affair was shameful enough, but to openly flaunt it before him? It was beyond wrong. It was unthinkable.

“I’ll pop over to see Maleficent,” Cora said, “She has a new potion she wished to share with me.”

“Do as you will, I could be gone for a few days.”

There was a stirring of something inside of Belle. Disappointment, she realized with more than a little surprise. It was actually a shame for her to learn that he would be gone. She would miss their discussions in the library. She did relish a few hours free from Cora, though. Perhaps she would be absent too for the length of his departure. She hated the idea of being alone in the castle, but it was far better than being alone with Cora.

“Will the shepherd boy agree to replace his brother?”

“What?” Belle asked.

“Of course he will,” Rumplestiltskin said, “King George needs an heir and by now that farm will be dilapidated again. He will do it to save his mother.”

Now Belle understood. Rumplestiltskin couldn’t bring Prince James back to life, but he could replace him with his twin brother. That seemed far worse than simply paying for the newborn as he did before. George had raised James and the farmer’s wife had raised the brother. This man could step into James’s shoes, but he couldn’t replace him in the king’s heart. Not to mention the terrible loss that would be dealt to his mother.

Belle thought about this all the while as she cleaned the table and washed the dirty dishes. She did wonder what this twin brother was like. He must look like James, but was he the same character? She hoped not. James would have made a terrible king. Despite the wrongness of this deal, perhaps it would be better for the realm that this shepherd became king.

Belle helped Cora dress for her visit to Maleficent, the wicked fairy Belle had only heard of and had never any desire to meet. Rumplestiltskin wasn’t in the adjoining room, so she wondered if he had already gone as well. Cora had instructed her to change the linens and wash everything while she was absent, but that could wait a bit. She was nearly done with her book and the sorceress wouldn’t know she’d tarried.

She was surprised to find Rumplestiltskin wasn’t gone yet. He was in the library, looking at one book. “I thought you’d gone,” she said when she saw him standing there.

“Not quite. I need something to keep me occupied. Dealing with kings can be tedious.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

He snapped the book shut and waved it in front of her. “This better be worth it, dearie, or I’ll have you pay for it.”

The Corsair, Belle saw and smiled. “If you don’t like it, I promise to read something I’m sure to despise.”

“Deal.” He gave her a little bow and then vanished in a puff of purple smoke. She stared at the space he’d left and whispered out, “Goodbye.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Belle had always thought herself as a solitary creature. Her favorite pastime was sitting in a comfortable chair with a book. Most of the noble daughters enjoyed balls, dancing, riding, even sewing to wile away their days. Belle could dance a waltz, sit upon a horse, and stitch a decent sampler, but none of those activities suited her.

However, she found she did not enjoy the solitude she had inside the Dark Castle. She had never felt lonely back home, probably because she was never really alone. There were always servants nearby or people in the village who came to trade or ask for support from her father. With both Rumplestiltskin and Cora gone, the castle was completely still. There was such eerie silence that Belle hurried through her chores in order to get the feel that there was some life in the stone walls. Not even a book could distract her from the emptiness.

It was cold and snowy outside, but Belle needed to be out in the grounds and away from the silence. She used the cloak Rumplestiltskin had given her to keep her from freezing, but her dress was so ruined already it hardly did any good. She wouldn’t stay for long, just long enough to feel more at ease.

Aside from the chilly air, it really was quite lovely. The statues were coated with frost and snow. The bushes and hedges all looked like fluffy white pillows. The garden paths were slippery, but sparkled in the sunlight. The Marchlands had very mild winters, mostly frost with maybe a little snow here and there. She had dreamed of gardens preserved in ice, icicles hanging from branches like jewels, and snow large enough to bury a man. It all looked like a fairy garden. It was breathtaking.

She followed the maze of hedges until she stumbled upon a small gated area. The iron bars were covered in ice, but still rather imposing. She couldn’t see much inside. Just a tree and more snow, but her curiosity was pricked. She pushed at the gate, but it wouldn’t budge. Some of the doors in the castle worked in the same way. However, the gate did move slightly when she pushed again.

The ice coated the hinges of the gate, freezing it in place. Belle tried picking at it with her hands, but her fingers were too numb. There were some rocks used the line the edges of the path. She stole one and proceeded to bash it up against the ice until the hinges squeaked open.

It was a little square space, full of snow and one large weeping willow. Perhaps there were flowers in here, buried beneath the snow. Right now the only flowers in the whole garden were snowdrops planted along the path in certain spots. Still, this place had to hold something beyond the willow.

She did enjoy walking on the snow, even if it made her slippers wet. She had never really played outdoors during the winter time, or any time for that matter. The daughter of Sir Maurice was never allowed outside unless supervised by her nurse, Agnes and at least one guard. It didn’t encourage friendships easily. It was part of the reason she turned to books for comfort.

A part of her wanted to play in the snow like she was child again, make snow angels, have a snowball fight, build a snowman, do all of the things she’d read about. But it wouldn’t be any fun all by herself.

She was about to turn back towards the castle when her slipper hit something hard. It was like a rock, but it had a sharp edge to it not naturally made. Belle used her foot the kick the snow aside. She was right, it wasn’t a rock but some sort of slab. 

Belle looked around her at the small space, gated and protected. She had an inkling what this place was now. Uncaring for the cold and wet, Belle sank to her knees and started to shove the snow away with her hands. Her arms became frozen sticks of ice, but she didn’t care. When it hurt too much, she broke off a branch from a pine tree outside of the gated area to sweep the last of the snow away.

It was slab of black marble flecked with gold veins. There were words carved into it’s face. Belle used the sharp end of her branch to dig the last of the snow out of the letters. She stood at the foot of the slab and read:

Here, freed from pain, secure from misery, lies  
A child, the darling of his parents' eyes:  
A gentler lamb ne'er sported on the plain,  
A fairer flower will never bloom again.  
Few were the days allotted to his breath;  
Now let him sleep in peace his night of death.

She was right. This spot wasn’t a garden, it was a grave. A small grave for a child.

It reminded her of another grave. Two, actually. The illness had swept through the village, many had gotten sick including her mother and three-year-old brother. They had died within hours of the other. She had held little Gabriel in her arms until his body had cooled. She hadn’t even realized her mother was gone too until they came to take him away.

Gabriel had a grave next to her mother’s and it wasn’t dissimilar to the one she stood at now. But her brother’s was labeled with his name as well as an epitaph. This grave was only marked with a lovely poem. Who lay in peace in this small space covered with snow and guarded by a willow tree?

“Poor boy,” she whispered to the slab. She remembered when they put Gabriel in the ground, how she had begged and pleaded them to put his bear with him so he wouldn’t get lonely. She had gone every day for three months to bring flowers to their graves. Later she’d still brought tributes to them on the anniversary of their deaths and on Gabriel’s birthday.

Belle took off her cloak, hardly feeling the cold anymore and laid it over the granite. “I’ll be back,” she promised the empty air. She didn’t wander far, just to the nearest patch of snowdrops. She picked a bundle and tied them together with one of the bare willow branches. She placed the bouquet on the slab of marble.

“There,” she said with a smile, “I always liked snowdrops. I hope you do too. I bet you were a nice boy. It’s a shame I don’t know you’re name. I’m Belle. I don’t know much about the Otherworld, but if you meet my brother please tell him I love him. Maybe you could play together there.”

She told the boy more about her long dead brother and how dear he had been to her. She would have stayed longer, but sleet began to pour down from the sky. It was time to return to the castle.

She gathered up her snow covered cloak and left the little graveyard. The paths were slippery before, now they were treacherous. She slipped twice, further ripping her once lovely gown. All she wanted to do was get inside, make a pot of tea, and read before the kitchen fire. She couldn’t feel her toes anymore and was considering taking off the remains of her dress and just wearing her chemise to let her gown dry. No one would see her anyways.

Belle stopped when she reached end of the gardens. Cora stood just inside the doorway dressed in velvet burgundy with a black cloak fluttering behind her like a pair of dark wings. Belle felt the breath freeze within her lungs.

“Hello, pet,” Cora said with a smile curling her lips, “Enjoying the gardens?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Belle said, “I had finished my chores and I wanted a bit of fresh air. I was going make some tea, would you like some?”

“No,” Cora said still smiling. Unlike Rumplestiltskin’s grin, there was nothing good in the way her lips curled upwards. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. “You like the gardens, don’t you, pet?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Even though they are covered in snow and ice?”

“Yes, mistress.”

Cora let out a “hmm” and cast her eyes to the sleet coming down and the ice covered paths behind Belle. “I think the garden would look much better if the paths were clear, don’t you agree, pet?”

“If you say so, mistress.”

“Since you enjoy being outdoors so much, you can clear the paths for me.”  
Belle’s mouth dropped open. She became aware of every ache and chill in her body, the numbing sensation in her hands and feet and what way the sleet froze in her hair. “But, mistress, it’s freezing out here. I couldn’t possibly—.”

“You chose not to do chores and to play outside, so you can do work out here if that is your will.”

“But I’ll—.”

“You dare to challenge me, pet!” Cora snapped, “I am your mistress! You follow my commands or you may face my punishment. Is that what you would prefer?”

Belle didn’t want to imagine what Cora’s punishment would be. Probably to spend the night outside or strapping her to a tree and whipping her until her back was a bloody mess. Of course she could lack the imagination Cora would put into the punishment. She could never tell what Cora was thinking.

“No, mistress,” she said, ducking her chin into her chest. Tears threatened to spill but they would surely freeze on her cheeks. She didn’t want to let Cora know how this hurt her.

“That’s a good pet.” Cora held out her hand and shovel appeared in it. She tossed it at Belle, the metal was cold and stung her numb hands. “Now get to work.”

Belle bit her lip so hard she could taste blood, but she didn’t feel the pain of it. If Rumplestiltskin were here he would never let Cora do this. He had stopped her from sending her out in the cold before, but he wasn’t here now.

Belle set the shovel to the path and started to scoop up snow. Most of it was ice that the blade just scraped over. She had never done this before, never seen it done either. Snow was so scarce in the Marchlands that Belle doubted her father’s gardener’s would know how to shovel snow either. She tackled it as best she could, but she knew even if she had the skill she would not be able to finish the job before dinner. The sleet eventually stopped, but by then she was coated with ice and she could barely lift the shovel. Her fingertips were turning blue.

It was dark when Cora appeared. “I see you didn’t finish.”

She hadn’t even gotten halfway done. Would she make her shovel through the night? If she did she would be dead by morning.

“Go to your cell,” Cora instructed, “You will have no supper tonight for your failure.”

Belle wasn’t hungry anyway. She was just relieved that she wasn’t going to freeze to death out there with a shovel in her hand. Her dress was soaked all the way through and was stiff from the ice. The blast of warm air from the castle stabbed at her skin like tiny needles. She could feel the prickles running up and down her arms and legs, but it still wasn’t enough relief. The dungeon was also cold. Not as cold as outside, but still not the warmth she so desperately needed. Belle took off her gold gown and spread it out on the floor. Her chemise was wet as well, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as her gown. She wrapped the blanket around her body and curled herself into a ball on the corner of her pallet.

“Please, Rumplestiltskin,” she whispered to the cold air, “Come home.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun didn’t wake Belle the next morning, the scratchy feeling in her throat did. Her head felt full, like it was a waterskin bursting at the seams. If her nurse, Agnes, was here she would tuck Belle into a nice warm bed with hot soup, tea, and some herbs. By morning she would be better. But Agnes wasn’t here. Only Cora.

Belle knew the sorceress would not feed her any home remedies. She would have to simply hope it would pass quickly. 

The kitchen had prepared another lovely breakfast, but this time for one. Rumplestiltskin had still not returned. She walked slowly, feeling as if she was moving through syrup. The kitchen was warm as ever, but she still found herself shivering. It was a struggle to make the tea over a hacking cough that began to weaken her. 

She nearly dropped the tray when she made it to the serving hall, causing the tray to rattle when she tried to place it on the table. The cream pitcher fell over and spilled on the tray.

“My, aren’t you clumsy this morning,” Cora said, apparently witnessing the whole thing as she walked into the room.

“I’m sorry, mistress,” she said, “I’m not feeling very well this morning.”

“Oh, so that is your excuse? You look fine to me.”

Belle did not feel fine at all. Her body was wracked with chills and it felt like her lungs had turned into lead. But Cora was not the sympathetic type. She wouldn’t let her have a day of rest. She would just have to go about her day carefully and wait until Rumplestiltskin returned. Surely he could give her some remedy.

Cora didn’t send her back outside to finish the gardens, but she did instruct Belle to sweep and dust her rooms. All of the dust only made Belle’s cough worse and started a sneezing fit. By lunchtime, she was certain she would never breathe properly again. She just needed to sit for a minute, just a moment so she could gather her strength. She took up one of the chairs and set her chin in her hand.

“Wake up!” 

Belle started awake. Cora was standing before her with her hands on her silk clad hips, her talon like nails digging into the fabric. “How dare you sleep in my room, you lazy chit!”

“I’m sorry, mistress,” Belle said, “I’m not feeling well. I just needed to—.”

“I’m tired of your excuses! You’re not a noble anymore, pet, you are a slave! Remember that as you wash scrub the entire staircase!”

It was a horrid punishment. Not only would the lye sting her hands again, but she was sure to be soaked by the end of the chore. Belle had to start from the top of the long, winding staircase and work her way down. It took eight bucketfuls to finish, but at least this time Cora didn’t purposefully spill anything.

It was late now and Belle knew she was worse. Her throat pained her so much she could hardly swallow and now she felt so lightheaded every time she turned her head. She hadn’t seen Cora in hours. Maybe she could go down to her cell and sleep for a few moments, or perhaps sit in the kitchens. It was warmer there and she couldn’t stop shivering with her wet clothes and aching head.

The walk to the kitchen felt like a thousand leagues. She had just sat down when Cora once again breached her peace. “Oh there you are,” she said with false warmth, “My husband has returned and he wants tea. I’m going out again, but I expect my bath to be ready when I return tonight.”

“Yes mistress,” Belle said, trying not to cry.

She held her head in her hands as she waited for the kettle to boil. The screech it made felt like a knife cutting through her skull. Belle filled the teapot and prepared the tray. Her arms shook as she carried the tray that must way a thousand pounds now.

Rumplestiltskin was sitting at the table, his hands steepled before him. “What took you so long, dearie?”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, “I’m a bit tired.” She set the tray down carefully this time and poured him a cup. The heat from the tea was like heaven to her cold hands.

“You look terrible,” he said, a frown creasing his brow.

“I’m just a little tired,” she said again, “I’m sure I’ll be better to—.” Another wave of dizziness came over her, far worse than before. She felt herself sway on her feet.

“Belle?” Rumplestiltskin called her name, but she could barely hear him over the roaring in her ears. It sounded like thunder. The whole room was spinning and then fading away. “Belle!”

She felt herself falling and then there was nothing.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rumplestiltskin disappeared from his chair and reappeared just beside Belle, catching her just before she hit the floor. Her body felt like it was boiling from the inside out. He could feel the dampness in her dress. “You damned, stupid girl!” he cursed. She should have said something before!

She hadn’t been ill before he left. No, she’d been the picture of health, blooming cheeks and shining blue eyes. Now she lay as still as death in his arms. He magicked them her cell and he carefully placed her on the bed, tucking the blanket around her. It wouldn’t be enough. She needed more warmth. A flick of wrist left her covered in a thick, down comforter and turned her gown into a warm nightgown. A little wood burning furnace stood by the window now to take out the extra chill.

He sent himself to his laboratory and got to work making the right potions he would need. Healing was an art he’d learned early on when he first became the Dark One. It was one of the things he was most called for, to heal the sick and prevent death. Belle wasn’t that far, but left to her own devices she very well could. He wasn’t sure who he was more angry with, Belle for not saying anything sooner or Cora for letting her get so ill.

Actually, he knew exactly who was to blame here. He would deal with his wife later, for now he had work to do. He had to be careful, the sick couldn’t handle a large price so that required only a minimum of healing magic. Mostly it was special herbs and a few secret ingredients most would rather no know went into the mixture.

But it would take more than just the potion to make Belle well again.

The elixir didn’t take too long. He found Belle curled up on her pallet, having kicked off her blankets and now shivering once again. “Stubborn chit,” he chided her though she couldn’t hear him.

He put his arm around her shoulders and lifted her up. “Drink this,” he told her, pressing the cup to her lips. The green liquid was slightly frothy and he knew it was bitter. She choked on it and tried to bat him away. “Listen to me,” he hissed at her, “You will drink this or you will die, now drink it!”

He was never known for his bedside manner.

It took more coaxing with a mostly unconscious Belle, but she finally drained the cup. It would take some time before it began to take effect so he set himself up as her nursemaid. “Don’t get used this,” he warned her as he put a cool cloth on her forehead.

She let out a groan. “Agnes?”

“What?” he asked her.

“Go away. Gabriel needs you.”

“Who’s Gabriel?” He remembered her behemoth of a betrothed had a name like that, but it wasn’t Gabriel. Some other suitor perhaps?

“I’ll go back tomorrow,” Belle mumbled again.

“I highly doubt you’ll be going anywhere for a few days, dearie,” he said with a snort. Why he was having a conversation with a feverish girl was beyond him. She really was a pitiful sight, pale with sweat darkened temples and clammy skin. She had looked worse in that dilapidated ball gown. She had looked beautiful in that dress in her father’s council chamber, he’d wanted to let her watch as her finery faded away. That was when he thought she was like all of the other’s noble’s. Now…now he realized he’d helped her get this way.

“I’m sorry, Belle,” he whispered to her. He would make this right. He would make sure she never went cold or ill in this castle ever again. 

The potion was doing it’s work. Her fever was beginning to fade and she stopped shivering. She curled up into the blankets with one hand pillowing her cheek. She would sleep for a while and feel much better when she woke. One brown curl, now lanky from her illness, fell over her eye. He brushed it away with his fingers. She leaned into his touch, curling her body towards his warmth. Foolish girl, but he couldn’t deny the sick.

He lifted her up so she could lay her head in his lap. He indulged himself with finally running his fingers through her silky hair. “Gabriel,” she said that name again in her sleep, “watch over him.”

He didn’t know who she was talking about, but she was stirring again, making desperate sounds. He waved his free hand over her head, whispering for her mind to be filled with sweet dreams. He sat with her until the last of her fever cooled.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rumplestiltskin waited in the darkness of Cora’s bedchambers. Belle was sleeping now. He knew his potion would give her a restful sleep for the rest of night and well into the next morning. She wouldn’t be better tomorrow, but she would be on the mend. A full day of rest and she would be back to the way she was before. But some things were going to change.

He sat there in the dark with only the glow of his pipe and the fire in the fireplace as the only source of illumination. Not even the wheel could soothe him right now. He left Cora to her own devices for the most part, but she’d gone too far now. As so he waited for his wife to return to what ever business she attended too. A part of him wondered who had replaced the now dead prince in her bed? Perhaps the twin brother, though he had a feeling the twins were not cut from the same cloth.

It was a marvel, that. The brothers had identical faces, even identical voices, but he could feel the differences in them even when they’d been squalling infants. One brother was made of gold, jewels, and everything sparkly and vein. The other was made of wool, dirt, and things of the earth that were hardworking and strong. In some ways, Rumplestiltskin understood it. He rarely looked in the mirror, but sometimes he stared at his own reflection and couldn’t understand what stood before him. He hardly remembered the poor cowardly spinner he used to be, but sometimes he wasn’t even sure what type of monster he was now.

Cora breezed into her room looking as lovely as ever in midnight satin and diamonds. He had promised her he’d shower her in gold when they married. He remembered when he first saw her imprisoned in King Xavier’s tower with only a spinning wheel and straw as company. The lust had boiled within him as he taught her how to spin the straw into gold. In his three hundred years of existence, he had never felt such a powerful bout of desire. Now he wondered where it had all gone. He looked at her clad like some dark empress and he didn’t even have a tingle of lust coursing through him. What he felt was fury.

“My my, well you certainly look like a demon sitting there in the dark,” Cora said without even a hint of nervous air to her, “I have a feeling you have a monstrous temper tonight as well. What is it this time?”

Rumplestiltskin took another puff of his pipe. “Did I not say that the girl was not to be harmed?”

“You did,” Cora said, “And last I saw her she wasn’t bleeding or maimed at all.”

“Did you happen to notice she was terribly ill?”

“I didn’t believe a trifling cold was deadly.”

“She collapsed while serving me tea,” Rumplestiltskin hissed, abandoning his pipe and his chair, “What about that seemed trifling?”

Cora only lifted her brows slightly. “And I’m sure you poured your potion’s down her throat in an hour’s time. She’s probably in the kitchens now, hoping to find some other way to gain your sympathy.”

“Don’t pretend like you’ve been wounded here, Cora! You made sure she would get sick! You wanted her to die!”

“Give me more credit than that, Rumple,” Cora said, “Do you really think I would have sent her upstairs to serve you if I wanted her to die? I only found her wandering outside so I set her to work. I didn’t realize her condition was so delicate that she would be on the brink of death because of a chilly wind.”

He knew it was more than a brisk wind that had reduced Belle to such a sorry state. He would ask the girl when she had recovered, but for now he had to deal with this. “I said you could have use of her, but if you insist on harming her than perhaps I should reserve her for my own use.”

Cora stopped unpinning her hair and whirled around to face him, her hands set squarely on her hips. “Oh, really? So you admit it at last. You did bring that girl here to be your mistress. Well, I said you could fuck any woman you wanted, go right ahead. I’m sure her cunt will be pleasing to you, though her experience is rather limited. But I won’t have her staying here. Send her home to her father and dally with her there or any other place. I won’t have any of your sluts in my home.”

Rumplestiltskin clenched his fists, his teeth grinding together as she spoke. He had given her his home when they married, but she was the one who had decided his bed wasn’t good enough. He had resigned himself to that a long time ago, but he’d never liked it. Now with Belle here Cora seemed determined to make him follow the same path as her. Well, he had vowed fidelity to her. Just because she had chosen to break her vows didn’t mean he would.

“First of all, I have no intention of bedding the girl,” he said. Desire was another matter, but those feelings were small and harmless. “Second of all, if you want to clear all the sluts out of my home then you best pack your bags too, Cora, or have you forgotten how we began?”

“Oh, I do believe you are still stung by my pursuits,” Cora said now with some amusement, “I only do it because it is my most valuable weapon. You’re appearance provokes fear, mine is lust. They don’t mean anything, Rumple. I have only ever loved you.”

He heard her words, but there was something off. She spoke them, she believed them, but that didn’t make them true. He really didn’t know what to believe anymore.

“Belle will need all of tomorrow to recover,” he said, “She should be better after that, but you will never put her in harms way again. If you do then I’ll have to find some way to punish you. Perhaps I’ll give Snow White my aid in her fight against you.”

Cora gasped and her cheeks burned with such color that it actually ruined her beauty. “You wouldn’t dare! Not after how I begged you to help me and you refused!”

“It’s true, I have no quarrel with the exiled princess,” Rumplestiltskin admitted, “her family has always been a thorn in your side, not mine. But if you continue to try and ruin my possessions, then I’ll have respond in kind.”

“I would never forgive you!” she spat.

“Forgiveness was never our strong suit to begin with,” he reminded her, “Consider yourself warned, dearie.”

He took his pipe and magicked himself out of the room before she could hurl her jewelry box at him. He could hear her destroying her bed chamber as he took up the wheel in his own room. Let her grumble, he thought. Soon he would check on Belle again, but for the rest of night he spun and let the wheel take his thoughts away.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Before Belle even opened her eyes she knew she felt strange. She had dreamed of being with her mother and little Gabriel the entire night. No wicked sorceresses, ogres, or dark entities interfered with her sleep. She didn’t wake up from the cold, damp, or even eerie silence. The last thing she remembered was serving Rumplestiltskin tea, or actually trying to serve him. Then it was all a dark slate. 

She had been ill, she knew that, but she didn’t feel cold anymore. A part of her was afraid to open her eyes. Had she died? Was that why she could hear some warm fire crackling close by and the comforting weight of a thick blanket covering her? But that didn’t seem right. The Otherworld wasn’t supposed to be simply warmth and the absence of feeling. She couldn’t be dead.

Belle cracked open her eyes and saw she was still in her dungeon cell, but it had changed. Now a little wood burning furnace crackled merrily in the corner. A deep red blanket covered her from her chin to her toes. A thick pillow stuffed to the brim with feathers supported her head. She still felt strange, almost hollow but not hungry.

“Ah, I see you’re finally awake.” 

Belle sat up, but her body felt so heavy that she wound up sinking back down. Rumplestiltskin flicked his wrist and more pillows appeared, propping her up so she was in a sitting position.

“My potion is speeding up your recovery,” Rumplestiltskin said. She saw he had a tray with him with a two boiled eggs, a bowl of porridge and a plate of bacon as well as tea. “But your body still needs to heal. By morning, you will be better. Today you rest.”

“But Cora—.”

“I am master here, dearie,” he chided her gently as he put the tray in her lap, “I told Cora no harm may come to you. Her jealousy knows no bounds it seems. If she tries to punish you for this or force you into a chore that will hurt you, call my name and I will stop her.”

“You don’t have to fight my battles for me,” Belle said.

“Do you really think you’re strong enough to face her, dearie?” He eyed the limp way she held her spoon. Fine, she was weak at the moment but she wasn’t going to let him feed her as well.

“I’ll never know if I don’t try,” Belle said, “but I appreciate your help, and most of all your kindness.”

Rumplestiltskin let out a snort. “I’m not kind.”

“Oh really? And what do you call all of this?”

“Necessary additions for your survival,” he said, “I have been remiss. I do not need all of this to live, unlike you. I had forgotten.”

Was that why he hadn’t given her clothes or extra blankets? He had forgotten what it was to be mortal, to be human. She wondered how old he really was. She had heard of him all her life, but she knew Cora wasn’t nearly as old as him. The rumors were she was a miller’s daughter in the late King Xavier’s kingdom and was due to marry the Prince Henry after she had proven her worth by spinning straw into gold. But then she did the unthinkable and murdered King Xavier and married the Dark One instead. Belle had only heard these rumblings from her father’s knights who had liked to try and frighten her with scary stories. Her nurse, Agnes, had discovered this and made sure she never heard a word about the Dark couple until the ogres came and there was no hope but darkness.

“Thank you,” was all Belle could say.

“Next time, speak up, dearie,” he said gruffly, “I may be powerful, but I’m not a mind reader. You won’t be punished because you are lacking in something you need.”

“I wasn’t…” she stopped. No, her fear wasn’t an excuse. She may have been afraid of how Cora would react, but she knew Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t begrudge her occasional request. No, this was her own foolish pride. Instead of pretending that she had something to prove by wearing her ragged gown, she should have asked him for new clothes and maybe something to warm up her drafty room. “I didn’t want to cause trouble,” she admitted at last.

“Cora causes the trouble here. You’re here to clean it up.” He said it in his sing-song voice that told her he was teasing. Belle gave him a trembling smile, she was still weak to fully express herself.

“With that in mind, I found these for you.” He beckoned with his finger towards a trunk in the corner she had failed to notice before. The trunk slid towards him and opened at his command. Belle could see dresses inside, lovely clothes though not nearly as fine as anything Cora had or what her gown used to be. But they were sturdy garments made of cloth that would resist wear and tear. There were also nightgowns, shoes, wool and silk stockings and other necessary clothes she needed. How it all fit into the trunk she couldn’t imagine, perhaps by magic.

“Oh, thank you!” she gasped when she saw the sight. At last she would be able to work in this castle without tripping over her hem or freezing in her light, summer silks.

“No thanks are necessary. I can’t have my maid dying in less than a month here,” he said, waving the trunk back to the corner. It reminded her of when he had first shown her the library for her to “clean”. She knew this wasn’t about keeping her safe and comfortable. He felt guilty for what had happened and now wanted to make amends.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Belle said, “Cora was the one who ordered me work in the cold, not you.”

Rumplestiltskin made a puzzled look appear on his face. “I know that, why would you think that should matter to me? I’m only trying to preserve what belongs to me.”

Belle only smiled back over her tray. Yes, and she was quite certain all of his possessions received the same care he was giving her. The dust and neglect was entirely imaginary.

“Finish your breakfast, dearie. Tomorrow I’ll work you to the bone. Don’t get used to this attention from me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, hiding her smile with her teacup.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rumplestiltskin left Belle when she went back to sleep. He made sure she had a pile of books with her as well so she would be entertained if she woke up before he checked on her again. Cora was gone once more. She’d left her bedchambers in shambles and stormed out without telling him where she was off to now. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

All of this left him feeling restless and unsettled. The wheel wouldn’t help, not for now. He ventured out into the gardens instead. The snow had returned, but he could see some of the paths were not as deeply covered as others. So that is what Cora had forced Belle to do. She’s lucky she didn’t freeze to death. He reached into the magic that bound that castle and instructed for it to always keep the garden paths clear. Cora would never again force Belle to do such a task, no matter how much it snowed.

He didn’t tarry in his quest. He knew exactly where he was going. The willow tree was still ensconced behind the iron fence. The snow was piled high all around it and it’s drooping limbs were covered in fluffy snow. It had been his favorite place, to play there inside the curtain of leaves in the summer. He’d made snowmen under those tangled branches during the winter. It had only seemed right to lay him to rest here.

No magic lingered in this place. The other gardens were already clearing of snow, but not this one spot. Here Rumplestiltskin did all of the work himself.

Except he didn’t have to.

The snow wasn’t completely clear hear, but neither was it thick. Someone had swept the grave clean, even dug the ice out of the engravings. At the foot of the marble slab was a little bundle of something covered in ice. Rumplestiltskin picked it up, not feeling he cold in his hands.

Snowdrops, bunched together in a bouquet. They were wilted now and limp from the ice and snow. The gesture was still the same regardless of their dying beauty.

Someone had been here. Not only that, they had cleaned the grave and left an offering of flowers there. Who had done that? Belle didn’t know about this place. That left only Cora.

His wife had never come here before, not since they first put him in the ground. It was his hands that had tended this place over the years. Why had she come now? He wasn’t sure what to think of her most of the time. True, most of their problems had occurred after their loss. Was this her attempt to make amends? Or was this a part of her grief returning from whatever place she’d hidden inside of her.

Rumplestiltskin stood there with dozens of questions racing inside of his brain, the icy snowdrops remained clutched in his hand. Such an odd choice of flower for Cora, considering her hatred for Snow White. He still couldn’t quite believe that it was her who had come here, but who else could it have been? Who indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think happened to Rumple and Cora's marriage? Who is in the grave? Please share your thoughts, I love to read them.
> 
> Next chapter: Rumplestiltskin finds himself in a conundrum and needs Belle's help, forcing them to embark on an adventure that will bring them even closer.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no beta so I apologize for any typos or mistakes. Please comment and tell me what you think.


End file.
